


between the devil (and the deep blue sea)

by LizMikaelson, saltziepark



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I repeat, alex needs to update her tags so here we go, all aboard the SS soft, and in paris, and read posie, and sightseeing, and terrible french spoken by miss penelope park, but lizzie is the captain of ss posie, but they're also dumbasses, but they're also hitting the books hard like the good students they are, chapter three might hurt a bit, do these kids ever go to class?, fire and ice and everything nice, hashtag posie storm kiss?, hizzie endgame, hope is going to be so damn pissed though, how many times can we insult landon?, hulk josie might make an appearance if that girl keeps talking to penelope, idiots falling back in love, insert ships horn but don't actually go on a ship because coronavirus, insert the classic sharing a bed trope, it is now a roadtrip story, josie will probably throw up at least once, landon is USELESS, landon is here but only as a punching bag so dont worry, lizzie and her doc martens is the otp we dont need because we have hizzie but its there, lizzie never got her drink and she's mad damnit, lizzie said i am gonna be a damn hot piece of bait, maybe croissants, new chapters out every monday because we have a schedule to keep people, okay he totallly is but just read the chapter, okay so there are croissants now, or deeper in love, pedro as a demigod has a nice ring to it right, pedro is the wisest one of all, pedro may or may not be the son of hades, pedro playing animal crossing with penelope is a fic i need to write, pedro remains the star of this fic, penelope pilot park, return of dark josie?, sacrificing is HER thing, same same, stay safe, stolen pancakes and kayaking and sand everywhere, theres banter and sexual tension, they basically stole a beach house, they're in love, they're yelling but you know, we aren't the morality police, we haven't insulted him enough is the answer, we stopped using xylo lyrics and song titles because folklore is a masterpiecr, we're pretending they're all over eighteen because consent, well ladies and gents these two idiots are FINALLY talking, whipped cream innuendos, yes underage drinking was going to happen but whatever, you lose some, you win some
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23176828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizMikaelson/pseuds/LizMikaelson, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltziepark/pseuds/saltziepark
Summary: Hope goes missing, the Super Squad needs help and Josie is absolutely not going to fall in love with Penelope Park again. Nope. Definitely not.
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson & Lizzie Saltzman, Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman, Penelope Park & Josie Saltzman, Penelope Park/Josie Saltzman
Comments: 624
Kudos: 1308





	1. you slip like sand right through my hands

Josie finds Penelope on a bench in Les Tuileries, her arms crossed over her body to shield herself from the autumn breeze. She shakes her head, watching her ex-girlfriend as she gazes out across the gardens, eyes hidden beneath large sunglasses, her leather boot-clad foot bouncing up and down to a beat only she knew. Her hair was longer, the curls falling in cascading waves down her back. A leather backpack sits next to her and she looks content, untroubled, unburdened in ways Josie had never seen before.

This is a dream, Josie realizes. It can’t be true. She can’t actually be here and now with Penelope, after months of waiting, months of searching, months of carrying around the agony of a broken heart.

And yet, the sun is shining, the air smells sweet in only the way that Parisian air can, and if the passport clutched in her hand is any indication, this isn’t a dream. 

Josie joins her on the bench, glancing quickly at Penelope before her eyes move towards the fountain, the sounds from the tourists just leaving the Louvre and taking an afternoon stroll bouncing around them. 

“This isn’t Belgium,” Josie observes awkwardly. “I mean, nothing can really compare with _Paris_ but you —” Josie is rambling, her nerves getting the best of her while Penelope sits silently. 

“Astute observation, Saltzman. Did Lizzie tell you that I was in Paris? I knew she was always smarter than she looked, but I could feel the locator spell even from Mystic Falls, Josie.” A pause and the brunette witch still hasn’t looked her way. 

“Hasn't your sister ever heard of cloaking? That’s spellcasting 101.” Penelope doesn’t turn to glance at Josie, can’t bring herself to yet. 

Because this, all of this, this chance meeting in a park a year after she left couldn’t actually be real. 

And yet, Josie Saltzman is sitting next to her — a white turtleneck hidden under a brown jacket that she had seen hanging in Hope’s closet, light blue denim jeans covering Josie’s legs that Penelope knew for a fact went on for miles. 

“She’s too distracted right now to think clearly,” Josie replies simply, and Penelope has missed the sound of her voice, the way her lips move. Had it really been a year since that night? 

And yet, her body is straining with the kind of concern that even Josie’s presence can’t diminish. Why is her ex-girlfriend here, looking for her in a park in the middle of a foreign city? 

“Let me guess, another monster attack? Maybe a slug got to you all again and your innermost feelings about me will soon become painfully clear?” Penelope spits the words out and they hit Josie like acid, burning in ways that only Penelope’s rage ever could. She always knew the best way to get under Josie’s skin, tiny microscopic cuts that grew over time until her skin shone with scars, until her heart atrophied. 

“Hope’s missing. We need you.” Penelope doesn’t miss the way that Josie doesn’t say “I need you” because they are nothing to each other, haven’t been for nearly three hundred and sixty-five days, and yet Josie hadn’t hesitated to jump on a red-eye flight out of Dulles the night before to track down Penelope Park, Satan’s mistress, destroyer of hearts, and the only damn hope they had of finding Hope Mikaelson alive. 

Penelope schools her reaction to be minute, but Josie doesn’t miss the way that she sucks in a sharp breath and bites her lower lip. She stays silent for some time, perhaps a minute or even longer before nodding and getting up, grabbing her backpack before turning back to Josie. 

Her eyes are hidden beneath the sunglasses but they burn into her. She hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to be looked at, to be seen by Penelope Pask. She doesn’t think she ever would, and this moment is dragging on too long. They’re both staring. 

Penelope breaks first. 

“I need to go back to my flat to pack some things and say good— I need to grab some stuff. Follow me.”

* * *

Penelope’s flat has a spectacular view of Paris and Josie lingers near the window, more than a little uncomfortable. 

It’s smaller than she expected, a single room crammed at the top of a building in a quarter of the city Josie doesn’t know, filled with bustling cafés and crowded markets. Her bed is in the corner of the room, taking up a wall, with shelves filled with books above it. A worn leather couch is in the center of the room and the essence of Penelope is everywhere. It's suffocating.

Penelope hurries through the room, throwing random piles of objects into a suitcase. There’s an assortment of plants covering any space available in the flat — the windowsill, the coffee table, hanging from the ceiling. Josie’s eyes move quickly over a plant she had given Penelope while they were still together, her heart racing. 

The space even smells like Penelope — vanilla with a hint of jasmine that could always make Josie weak in the knees when she smelled it on the witch’s skin. 

Josie knew when would have some reaction, but nothing like this heady mix of the old and the new smacking her in the gut like a thousand-pound weight. 

There is art on the walls, signatures by artists Josie doesn’t know or recognize. Penelope moves around the space quickly, with the same effortless grace she had when Josie was in her arms practicing for the Miss Mysti - _don’t go there, Josie_ , she warns herself. The memory is squashed, filed under things not to think about, now or ever, before Josie clears her throat loudly.

Penelope packs in a flash, pausing to water the myriad plants, whispering to them that she would be back shortly. 

Josie swallows back another memory, of a lazy Sunday spent in Penelope’s room at school, the witch going on and on about how you had to talk nicely to your plants to get them to grow, how you had to show them you cared. 

It’s clear that this is a home, not just a place to stay. 

It’s — not what she expected. 

“What happened to Belgium?”

Penelope looks up, hands touching the leaves of a monstera in a corner. “It’s been a long year, Josie.”

So, this is how it’s going to be. But before Josie can go back to gazing out the window, Penelope asks a question. 

“Why does your sister care about Hope being kidnapped?”

“Huh?” 

“Earlier, you said she was distracted. Why does she care so much?”

“An answer for an answer,” Josie offers, and for a moment they just stand there, staring at each other, and the tension feels charged, sparking with an electricity Josie had never forgotten. 

Penelope’s chuckle fills the room and it dissipates. For now.

“Belgium didn’t offer me any of the answers I was looking for. And the school was far less supportive than I expected.” It’s not exactly a transparent answer, but Josie thinks it’s as good as she’s going to get. “Your move, Saltzman.”

“Oh, uh, Lizzie’s excuses have ranged from saving the resident hero to getting Dad’s favorite kid back safely, but I honestly think she finally realized what had been staring her in the face all these years.” Josie looks up and meets Penelope’s eyes before quickly looking away. 

“Well, it’s about time,” Penelope observes, folding a shirt before it disappears along with a pair of jeans into the suitcase. 

“Those two were one step away from a cheesy rom-com with all of their lingering glances and enemies to lovers energy. One second.”

Penelope’s phone ringing interrupts the silence around them and she steps out onto a balcony that Josie didn’t even realize was attached to the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Rapid-fire French filters back to her and since when did Penelope Park speak French? 

Despite the speed, her words are touching, nurturing, the care within in them rolling off of Penelope’s tongue and out of her mouth like a caress and she smiles before she turns away from the window, her back to Josie. The siphon doesn’t, can’t bring herself to ask any questions, and judging by Penelope’s expression as she steps back into the room, answers wouldn’t be forthcoming. 

She tried to move on. 

She can’t begrudge Penelope if she attempts the same. 

It’s just that if there’s one thing she’s learned from her relationship with Landon, it’s that she won’t be able to move on. That no matter how silly and ridiculous it sounds, nothing will ever compare to what she had Penelope. 

And maybe, she wishes, just a little, that at least, it would be the same for them both.

“Will you carry this for me?” Penelope asks, handing Josie the leather backpack from the park, now filled with a few old spellbooks and Penelope’s grimoire. Josie responds with a nod, reaching out to grab the strap as her fingers graze Penelope’s, ever so briefly. 

She nearly drops the bag from the touch and maybe she's just touch-starved, tired from the flight, out of sorts in Penelope’s apartment. But maybe Penelope had felt the spark too. 

Clearing her throat again, Josie needed to get out of this room. It was too much, too much Penelope in such a short amount of time. 

She mutters something about waiting downstairs and attempts to calm her racing heart as she waits on the street. A few more hours and they’ll be back at the school, and maybe breathing will be a little easier then, with Penelope a little further out of reach. 

Just as this thought flies through her mind, the sky opens and a torrent of rain unleashes on the city. Josie makes it inside and back up to Penelope’s flat just as the witch is locking her front door. 

“You were gone three minutes, what happened?” she asks, a small smile playing on her lips as she takes in Josie’s wet hair, framing her face in a way that was effortlessly gorgeous. Penelope feels herself move to reach for a strand, but fights the feeling and turns back to her front door. 

“Let’s check our flight status before hailing a cab? And maybe get you out of those wet clothes?” 

“I didn’t bring any extra clothes,” Josie replies, catching a towel flying at her face as they walk back into Penelope’s flat. 

“That’s fine,” Penelope calls out to her, walking over towards one of the chests of drawers near her bed. She pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and hands them to Josie. 

“I might have taken these when I left.”

Josie reaches for them, her mouth open. “I looked for these.”

“It’s your fault that these pants were super comfy,” Penelope argues, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Bathroom’s over there, Jo.” 

She returns from her shower some ten minutes later to Penelope angrily cursing into her phone before hanging up. 

“You may want to call your she-demon sister,” she says, “I booked us out on the next flight I could get. But thanks to this storm, that’s gonna be the day after tomorrow.”

Josie towels off her hair slowly before placing the call to Lizzie, turning away from Penelope even in the small apartment. Penelope didn’t need to see Josie’s reaction to Lizzie’s spiraling, which was sure to be happening. A pain flared in her chest because stupid twin sense and this wasn’t going to be a pleasant call. 

Lizzie’s voice is frantic with worry and filled with tears, even as Josie attempts to calm her down. It doesn’t work. 

Penelope can hear her ranting and raving even across the tiny room, and she can see the way Josie’s fingers are tapping against her desk, lightning-speed. 

And some part of her wants to step closer, wants to alleviate Josie’s distress, be there for her. But Josie’s posture is rigid, closed off, and Penelope isn’t that person for her, hasn’t been, and certainly can’t step into the role now given everything. 

“Yeah, Liz, no, no, I mean, it's pouring rain and you know I can’t control the weather. I know, I know, I know!” Josie sighs loudly and Penelope doesn’t have to be a genius to know that she is clutching the bridge of her nose with her free hand to ward off an impending headache. 

The witch busies herself with making two cups of tea while she waits, turning the kettle on the small stovetop and pulling two mugs down from a cabinet before leaning against it with her arms over her chest. One is in the shape of an elephant, with a trunk and large ears. The other has the image of a cactus on it with the phrase “looking sharp!” that Josie had gotten for Penelope after their first date. 

Penelope tries to forget the memories, she really does, sighing loudly, feeling her nails dig into her palms as she stands. 

Was she watching Josie closely for more signs of distress? Maybe. Was she checking her ex out in those sweatpants and that t-shirt? Probably, but she would admit that fact to no one, let alone herself. She was just….concerned. Like any good friend would be. 

“I’ll be fine, Lizzie. It’s just two nights. Yes, yeah, flight lands at midnight and we can just grab a cab from the airport. Don’t send Dad, _please_.” 

Penelope pours boiling water and tries her best not to intervene, not to walk over there and wrap a comforting arm around Josie. 

“Okay, okay, yes, Lizzie. See you tomorrow night. I love you too, bye.” Josie hangs up the phone, pausing before she turns back to Penelope, running a hand through her still-wet hair. 

“She sounds as lovely as ever,” Penelope deadpans, rolling her eyes as she turns back to the two mugs to bring them to the coffee table. Josie just scoffs, shaking her head before throwing her phone onto the table. 

“Sit down, drink this tea I made for you, stop biting your lip because there’s nothing we can do at this very moment, and I can show you around the city tomorrow before our flight. Does that sound okay?” 

Penelope looks up at Josie, who is, of course, biting her lip and shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a surefire sign that she was spiraling with worry. The witch grips the mug tighter in her hands, the need to reach out and steady Josie like a nagging itch that she refuses to scratch. 

“You’re right,” Josie concedes, joining Penelope on the couch but keeping a safe distance away from her. One cushion apart was enough of a buffer, right? 

“I love hearing those words come out of your mouth,” Penelope teases with a terrible attempt at a wink that calmed Josie’s nerves more than she would ever admit. 

Josie leans against the arm of the chair, her knees bent so that she wouldn’t brush Penelope with her foot as the witch turns on the television, an old black and white movie filling the screen. Of course, it was Casablanca and of course, it would be on, the opening credits flashing across the screen. 

“Hey, I can’t control French television,” Penelope replies quickly at the sharp inhale of breath that Josie takes. 

Images rush to Josie’s mind — a queen-sized bed, the comforter kicked to the floor, candles all around them, Penelope’s hands in her hair and all over her body as Rick says to Ilsa _“we’ll always have Paris.”_

“Change it,” Josie says sternly, her jaw set. Penelope smiles and does nothing as the music from Rick’s bar fills the small flat. 

“Change it, Penelope,” Josie says again, this time nudging the witch with her foot, which Penelope grabs quickly, palm moving under Josie’s foot to find the one spot that she knew would make the siphon erupt in a flurry of giggles. 

“Don’t you dare, Park,” Josie threatens, trying to wiggle out of Penelope’s grip. 

“Or what, Saltzman?” 

They’re both momentarily lost in the intimacy of it all. Taken back to a time when it was easier with them. Before it all burst into flames 

The city, the room, the jazz music all around them. With another yank, she pulls her foot free as Penelope just laughs with a shake of her head. 

“Change it,” Josie demands, but her voice feels lighter, easier, as Penelope rolls her eyes. 

“Not willing to indulge a bit of nostalgia? It’s your favorite, after all,” she challenges. 

It’s a valid point, Josie admits, silently, and relaxes back into the cushions. “Fine,” she grumbles. 

The following ninety minutes are the most torturous she’s ever spent on a couch with someone, all too aware of Penelope’s presence next to her, each sentence in the movie bringing her back to a different time, a different place because of course right after _Casablanca_ , the credits would roll and _Singing in the Rain_ would start right up. 

“Can we change it now, please?” Josie asks, emphasizing her question with yet another kick at Penelope’s hip. 

“Wanna help me with dinner? I have some paella leftover from last night.” Penelope swats Josie’s foot playfully before getting up, making her way to the kitchen. 

Josie leans over the back of the couch, watching Penelope move around the room with her arms crossed and she fights back the urge to go to her, take her in her arms, spin her around in the light of the refrigerator and kiss her senseless. 

“You cook now,” she observes, swallowing loudly. This was going to be torture. Absolute torture. And it had only been two hours. 

“It’s paella, it's not rocket science, Jo. But I guess, when in Paris, right? Is that how the saying goes?” 

“Your jokes haven’t gotten any better,” Josie teases, content to just sit and watch Penelope grab down some bowls, a large pot, and take a container out of the fridge. 

“Come here and grab that baguette by the cabinet, please?” Penelope asks Josie, turning towards her with a towel flung over her shoulder. 

“I’ll toss together a quick salad and some white wine and voila!” 

“You’ve gone awfully French on me,” Josie mutters, reaching for the baguette as she joins Penelope in the kitchen. 

“This is technically Spanish food,” Penelope replies, and Josie rolls her eyes. “Smartass.”

It’s terribly, terribly easy, to fall back into this with Penelope, whatever this may be. 

It’s terribly, terribly easy, Josie thinks, to listen to her voice tell enthralling tales of Belgian schools and French endeavors, terribly, terribly easy to reply with stories about monsters and the school, and far, far, far too easy to steal the olives from Penelope’s plate. 

She doesn’t like them, anyway. She never has. 

Josie stops herself after her second glass of wine, the heady warm feeling she used to get around Penelope now a glow like a relit ember and she remembers where they are, who they are. 

Penelope is smiling at her lazily as she prepares a bed for herself on the couch after a quick disagreement when she offered Josie her bed. Josie is taller, at any rate, and Penelope was nothing if not chivalrous. 

When she passes Josie in the hallway to the bathroom, Penelope inhales loudly, the urge to grab, to touch, to hold Josie for a moment so strong, but no, that definitely had to be the wine talking. 

And maybe she’s not quite alone in this, in this absolute mess, because as soon as the room is dark, as soon as Penelope settles herself onto the couch, she can hear Josie’s voice. “Are you awake?”

“I turned the light off four seconds ago, Jo-Jo,” she replies. “Yes.”

“Nothing, nevermind,” Josie says quickly, pulling the blanket covering her up higher on her body and trying not to bask in the scent of Penelope all around her. It smelled like comfort, like coming home, and it was too much and not enough. 

This girl was going to be the death of her. Here lies Josie Saltzman, beloved daughter and sister. Fatally cursed to love Penelope Park for all of her days. 

“Josie,” Penelope prompts and the siphon can feel the eye roll from ten feet away which brings a smile to Josie’s face. 

A thousand questions fly through Josie’s mind, ranging from the mundane to those she’s pushed away to the darkest corners, questions like _why did you leave?_ and _will you stay?_ threatening to burst forth so she goes for something simple, easy. Something to quiet her racing heart and keep her in this bed rather than throwing caution to the wind and joining Penelope on the couch. Which, on the list of stupid ideas she’s had recently, ranks pretty high up there (along with jumping on a red-eye to solicit help from her ex-girlfriend who crushed her heart into a million tiny pieces, but who’s keeping score?) 

“Will you show me your favorite bakery tomorrow?” 

“I—yeah, of course, Jo,” the witch replies and maybe, just maybe, Josie can make out a smile in the response. Penelope nearly says “anything for you” but stops herself with a hand over her mouth. 

The silence is only broken when Penelope mutters a quiet “sweet dream, Jo Jo”, and Josie replies with a soft goodnight, but sleep is hard to come by, even after a flight across the Atlantic and the jetlag setting in. 

Penelope’s presence, too close, too far, has her nervous and on edge, and when sleep does take her, it still feels restless.


	2. im coming up for air (come and share my last breath)

Josie wakes to the smell of coffee all around her, the aroma intoxicating and she sinks into the blankets more fully, savoring the subtle hints of Penelope mixed with the cinnamon and cardamom that she knew the witch always added to her morning drinks. Sitting up and running a hand through her hair, Penelope has two mugs ready as she scrolls lazily through her phone, sitting on the counter in the kitchen. 

Josie could get used to this, had gotten used to something close to this before. Her chest is tight at the domesticity of it all, even if it's fleeting. Even if it's just for today. Even if it's all make believe. Hope is still missing, they aren’t any closer to figuring out where she is and why she’s gone. Josie gets to her feet, running a hand through her hair and stretching her back, arms above her head. 

Penelope looks up and stares, she can’t help it, listening to the cracks in Josie’s back, watching how the shirt moves higher on Josie’s stomach, exposing alabaster skin dotted with freckles, and remembering a time when she was the cause of that stretching, limbs exhausted and sore as she and Josie watched sunrise after sunrise. She nearly chokes on her coffee, taking a moment to clear her head of inappropriate thoughts that she shouldn’t be having about her ex-girlfriend at eight in the morning. 

“Sleep well?” Penelope asks in an attempt at casual because her mouth is dry despite the coffee and because Josie is walking towards her with a strut that she knows is unintentional but is doing things to Penelope’s very fragile self-control. She swallows a mouthful of coffee that is far too hot and her throat burns, her core burns, and Josie has no business looking like that just getting out of bed. 

“Your bed is comfortable,” Josie observes, taking the mug of coffee next to Penelope and holding it with both hands, inhaling deeply before taking a drink. 

“I know,” Penelope remarks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively that makes Josie’s stomach swoop with nostalgia. 

“Does that really work?” 

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” 

“No comment,” Josie replies quickly, taking another sip of the coffee and feeling her entire body jolt with energy. It had to be the coffee. It couldn’t be the way Penelope’s stupid mannerisms struck her straight to the core. 

They drink their coffee in silence, sneaking glances at each other that have Josie blushing and Penelope rolling her eyes. She tries not to think too much about all the ways she’s made Josie blush like this before, focuses instead on the day ahead of them. 

The bakery she takes Josie to is a little hole-in-the-wall place, just down the street, discovered in her first week in Paris. She asks for two chocolate croissants, passing the money to the woman with a smile that Josie remembers all too well, gentle and soft and reminiscent of different times. 

It’s all she seems to be doing, remembering. She thought it would be easier, coming back here. Thought that she might have gotten better at compartmentalizing. 

But the pull of Penelope Park is as strong as ever, close to irresistible, and Josie feels caught under her spell once more. 

She probably never stopped, if she’s being honest with herself. (And she rarely ever is, particularly in situations in which Penelope is concerned). 

It's been a year, and she should be over it by now, but she's not, remembering the nights she would be plagued with insomnia, closing her eyes and feeling Penlope’s hands, lips, skin. 

Penelope passes her the croissant and its warm, flaky, and smells absolutely delicious. Josie could get used to this — coffee and croissants for breakfast and wandering the streets with Penelope. Did they really have to fly home later and face whatever was waiting for them? Yes, a voice in the back of her mind nags her. Remember Lizzie. Remember Hope. 

They eat as they walk and Penelope acts as tour guide, telling Josie that the neighborhood in which she lives is called Le Marais in the Jewish Quarter in the 4th arrondissement. The French passes over Josie like a wave, like a caress of Penelope’s hand and she has to tell herself to nod rather than look at the speck of chocolate stuck to the corner of Penelope’s lip. 

“You have some -” Josie reaches out with her hand, swiping the chocolate away with her thumb before wiping it on the napkin Penelope had grabbed for them. 

“Uh, th—thanks. So, um, where are we?” Penelope turns around in place for a moment, running her free hand through her hair more to give herself a chance to catch her breath than figure out where they were. 

She knew exactly where they were, had walked this street dozens of times. But Josie’s touch had _burned_ and she could still feel the phantom sensation against her lip and needed just a moment to herself. 

Penelope in the sunlight, her sunglasses framing her face, shielding her eyes nearly makes Josie’s heart catch. If she was Hope, she would paint her, draw her, sketch her like this. Because the image of Penelope in her mind, an image she saw more times than was probably healthy, can never quite match up with the reality standing in front of her. 

Penelope is watching her now too, her lips pursed as she fights to keep her expression blank. Fights to control her breathing. Because they are in the middle of Paris and a year stands between them even though it feels like moments and everything about this stupid city makes Josie want to do something reckless, like take Penelope’s hand. Or even worse — kiss her and try to forget everything that happened.

Josie doesn’t miss the way she seems to have stopped Penelope right in her tracks, out of sorts and bites back a smirk as she takes another bite of the croissant. 

“Um, so we have to pass the Hotel de Ville to make it to the Louvre, unless you had something else in mind?” Great recovery, Park.

“It’s your city,” Josie replies, “your call.”

Penelope leads her through the streets, her hands moving rapidly through the air as she explains almost every old building, every restaurant, and every shop. Everything is brimming with history and Josie wants to soak it all up, bottle this feeling and cherish it always. 

They get to the Louvre and somehow, somehow Penelope had secured timed tickets for them (Josie thinks she smells some magic up Penelope’s sleeve, but the witch gives nothing away). Josie marvels at the sight of it all — the art, the statues, the glass pyramid that shows a gorgeous sunny day with clouds threatening, but she wouldn’t let that dull the endless wonder and amazement of being here, in this place, with Penelope by her side. 

The witch drags her all over the museum and they linger there for hours. Josie fills up her phone with photos of the paintings and far, far too many photos of Penelope, unable to resist sneaking pictures of her when the lighting hit her just right. 

It's all a whirlwind and Josie tries to remember everything that Penelope's saying, but she’s in awe of the witch and this city. They walk through Les Tuileries and along the Seine where they cross the river and head towards Musee D’Orsay. Penelope stops them at a small shop and they each enjoy crepes — Penelope gets a savory one and Josie can’t resist getting a sweet one and halfway through the meal, they swap plates and laugh about the whipped cream on Josie’s nose that Penelope has the strong urge to lick off. 

She doesn’t, she doesn’t, but god, she wants to.

Penelope takes her to the Musée D’Orsay and gushes over Degas’ dancers and Monet’s lilies, almost lost in her own world. They never had the time, before, to talk about art. They had so much less time than Josie thought they would then. And there’s something wonderful about watching Penelope love the art Josie loves, about the way she appreciates the quiet beauty and the little, hidden things. They certainly don’t have time now and every moment of levity is another reminder that Hope is missing, Lizzie's waiting for them, stressed, heartbroken and anxious and Josie can feel it from thousands of miles away. But today, with Penelope, Josie wouldn’t trade today for anything. 

If Lizzie was art, she would be expressionistic all the way, cubist even, loud and colorful, bold strokes with broad brushes, but Josie loves the gentle details of impressionistic art. She sees Penelope in Van Gogh’s night sky - bright and sparkling with hints of darkness right next to the light. 

Penelope thinks that if Josie were a piece of art (and damn it, she absolutely is) she would be soft lines and muted tones. A palate of an early spring day, the flowers coming into bloom slowly at first, but their beauty radiating in the warm light.

* * *

They’re leaving dinner at Le Deux Magots, happy and sated, Josie’s head swimming with the French wine (she hadn’t stopped after two drinks this time, too lost in the moment with Penelope) and Penelope's telling her how Hemingway, Camus, and Picasso all dined there, which is all well and fine, but the words fly in and out of Josie’s mind as she grabs the witch’s hand, bringing it up to her mouth to kiss. 

“Josie,” Penelope breathes and Josie doesn’t speak, pulling Penelope up against her on a stone wall, their bodies pressed together. Josie's drowning in the dizzying scent of Penelope's perfume, her mouth dry as she feels electricity coursing through her body. 

She can’t move away, couldn't even if she wanted to, and she finds her face closer to Penelope, their noses nearly touching as they breathe the same air. The memory, the taste, the feeling of Penelope is the only coherent thought in her mind and god, it would be so easy to close the distance.

“Josie…” God, it's the breathless whisper that breaks her, because it's the first time she's ever heard Penelope sound so out of sorts and it sounds so much like the sound of coming home. 

Josie reaches out, touching Penelope’s cheek and the witch moves her face into Josie’s hand, chest heaving as they continue to lock eyes. Penelope is intoxicating like this, open and vulnerable and so, so beautiful. She leaves open kisses on Josie’s palm as Josie thumbs Penelope’s lips, swallowing deeply.

It has to be the wine, Josie thinks, as she watches Penelope’s eyes sparkle in the street lights.

It can’t be this day, this perfect day that they have shared that reminded Josie of everything they were before it was all destroyed. 

Josie closes the distance, can’t bear being so close and so near and the kiss is tentative, searching at first. The world doesn’t stop turning though, even as she kisses Penelope for the first time in nearly a year. She wants to sob at the thought.

The kiss quickly turns desperate, and they both moan at the feeling of it. Penelope’s hands on her hips, holding on, and soft lips against her own, and it’s all too much, and not enough at all. And when Penelope whimpers against Josie’s mouth when the siphon tugs her closer, something inside of her breaks and she doesn’t want this moment to end. 

They should talk about this, they really should. But the way Penelope feels beneath her fingers is like a balm to soothe her aching soul and she needs more of it. Right now. 

Their walk has led them all around the city, almost back to Penelope’s apartment, and wine-drunk and light-headed, Josie breaks the kiss to intertwine their fingers, leads Penelope down the last two streets. They don’t let go of each other as they walk, as if breaking their touch would bring them back into a reality neither of them wants to return to. 

Penelope stops her halfway up the stairs, spins her around and presses light kisses against her neck, and, fuck, Josie missed her, missed the way Penelope makes her breathless and the way she makes her smile. 

They stumble into the flat, knocking over a lamp and shedding clothes as they go and neither of them have spoken full sentences since leaving dinner, since the kiss, but their touch on each other’s skin makes words superfluous. They trip at the foot of Penelope’s bed and Josie lightly shoves the witch backward, falling on top of her as Penelope sits up to grab at Josie’s hips and palm her ass. Josie straddles Penelope, tearing at her top before she pulls it off and over Penelope’s head with a low growl.

“This is new,” Penelope remarks, tugging Josie’s shirt up and over her head as Josie kisses along Penelope’s jawline and neck. 

“Shut up,” Josie sighs, a moan escaping her lips as Penelope’s nails scratch parallel lines down her back, making quick work of her bra. 

“So you’re bossy now,” Penelope mutters, covering up the hitch in her breath and tracing her mouth over Josie’s breasts as her own bra ends up on the other end of the room. 

“Things change after a year,” Josie replies, pulling at Penelope’s jeans with confident hands, lips trailing lazy kisses over Penelope’s ear, before she whispers, “take these off.” 

Penelope slides out of her jeans, watches Josie do the same, and then they’re falling into each other again, no more space between them as Josie runs a hand through her hair before straddling Penelope once more, pushing her back on the bed. The witch lands on her elbows, a smirk dying on her lips as she watches Josie in the moonlight, mesmerized by perfect skin, freckles dotting her stomach, and legs that really did go on for days. 

There’s a sparkle in Josie’s eyes, something that was missing twelve months ago, something like danger wrapped up in Josie’s skin, in her tongue, in her hands. God, she really was the most beautiful person that she’s ever seen. 

Penelope can taste the wine of Josie’s lip as she chases kisses down her neck, her collarbones, her chest, sucking and biting and licking and touching. Trying to rewrite memories with her hands, remap the skin that she had spent hours worshipping. There's a spark of electricity beneath their skin as they touch each other and it thrums and builds. 

Josie knows, as she slides her hands up and down Penelope’s arms, as Penelope’s tongue slips inside her mouth to tease at her, that she will never want another person besides Penelope for as long as she may live, that no one else will make her feel like this, be able to set her on fire with a single kiss, to burst into flames, to come home in the arms of another person. 

Penelope’s hips cant against hers and they’re both so wet, the heady scent of arousal mixed with the perfume that Josie would never in a million years forget. It’s too much and not enough and Josie wants and she wants and she wants.

The siphon kisses Penelope’s neck, crawling down her body as the witch shudders underneath her, lips tracing lines from shoulder to the hollow of her throat, to her breasts. She takes one of Penelope’s nipples between her lips, pulls with her teeth and the witch curses her name before she peppers kisses across her chest and continues the same treatment on her other nipple, sucking and biting and feeling Penelope arch her back underneath her.

Josie dots kisses along Penelope’s sternum, pausing at Penelope’s hip and biting the bone, running her nails up and down Penelope’s ribcage that has the witch moaning and writhing, goosebumps rising to follow Josie’s fingers. 

Penelope’s hand winds in Josie’s hair and she feels nails dig into her scalp, hard enough to make her moan against Penelope’s stomach. Penelope’s hips have not stopped moving, restless beneath Josie as the siphon drums her fingers on her hips as if to say _patience, my love, patience_. 

Josie wants to leave a lingering mark somewhere, anywhere, if only to serve as a reminder of this night, so she bites again at the skin near Penelope’s center that has the witch gasping and arching into her with even more force. Penelope would never beg Josie, has never so freely given up control like this, but Josie can feel silent prayers falling out of Penelope’s lips that make her think that if she didn’t do something soon, pleading might soon follow. 

Penelope is grinding against her more now, as she kisses from thigh to the inside of her leg, hands running up and down her thighs. The witch slides a leg over Josie’s back and Josie can’t help but let out a shuddering moan as she draws one finger down through wet folds, sucking on her clit and tasting her as Penelope’s hand tightens in Josie’s hair. 

Josie slides one, and then two fingers inside of Penelope, swirling her tongue and curling her fingers with each thrust as Penelope breaks apart in her hands, her loud breathing and moans filling the small apartment. Josie had forgotten what Penelope had felt like around her fingers, had forgotten what making love to her felt like, and she never wants to stop, never wants this to end, and she needs to commit the sight, the feel, the sound _everything_ to memory.

“Come here,” Penelope breathes, and Josie feels herself being pulled upwards, her fingers deep inside of the other witch as she moves them in and out, their chests heaving. Penelope kisses her, tasting herself and Josie swallows her moans, swallows her breath as Penelope clenches her legs around Josie’s waist, hips meeting every thrust from Josie with one of her own that has Josie feeling herself drip down her thigh. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” Penelope breathes, eyes fluttering closed as her head tips back. Josie takes the opportunity to kiss down Penelope’s neck, watching her fall over the edge. She's glorious like this, and Josie's unable to look away, watching for Penelope’s every reaction and breath. Penelope comes with a word on her lips that sounds a lot like Josie, her hips arching from the bed as her hold around the siphon’s waist loosens. 

Josie kisses her again and again in the comedown, the sight of making Penelope come undone nearly enough to tip her over the edge herself. 

She can’t help herself, keeps chasing Penelope’s lips even as the other witch recovers slowly, her hands splaying out across Josie’s back, and she’s definitely not drunk on the wine anymore, just on the girl underneath her, her mind a chorus of Penelope, Penelope, Penelope. 

Penelope’s hands slide up to tangle in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss, before she shifts them back a little and sits up, Josie still in her lap. She traces her hands over Josie’s thighs, soft skin for miles and miles, and she’s still a little breathless. 

Josie exhales sharply. There’s something reverent about the way Penelope is touching her, taking her in, as Penelope whispers against her throat, “qu'est-ce que tu veux?” that elicits a shuddering moan as Josie shakes her head. 

“You know I don’t know what that means,” she breathes, hands gripping on Penelope’s shoulders, head thrown back as Penelope’s touch sends shockwaves directly to her core. 

“What do you want, Josie?” Penelope translates, biting at the hollow of Josie’s throat, at her pulse point. Josie clenches around her, her stomach swooping at the words. 

Two can play this game. She drags her mouth to Penelope’s ear, kissing the spot behind it that she remembers all too well to be sensitive. “I want you to fuck me, Penelope,” she whispers and smirks at the way Penelope’s hands tighten, involuntarily, around her thighs, nails digging into her skin. “Now, please” she adds, for good measure. 

Penelope’s hands are warm on her skin and she curses, French, again, when she feels just how wet Josie is. Josie arches closer to her, keeps her mouth busy with a trail of kisses down Penelope’s neck and sucks the skin into her mouth when Penelope pushes two fingers inside of her. 

And fuck, the one meaningless hookup she’s had since their breakup definitely can’t compare to this. Nothing can. She’d forgotten how skilled Penelope has always been at unraveling her, how she knows how to curl her fingers just right to have Josie breathless and wanting. 

She might look a little bit wanton, a little bit desperate, grinding down on Penelope’s fingers, fucking herself, her hands gripping Penelope’s shoulders, holding on. But she doesn’t think Penelope minds if the way she mutters “magnifique” against Josie’s skin is any indication. 

Penelope’s mouth moves over her breasts as Josie arches her back, and falls to pieces when Penelope looks up to meet her eyes, pressing her thumb against Josie’s clit simultaneously, and Josie loses herself in a sea of green. 

Penelope hangs on, gripping her back with her free hand as Josie’s hips stop their movement, her chest heaving. Josie leans her forehead against Penelope’s, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, a smile playing on her lips that has her heart soaring. Words she hasn’t spoken in a year fly to her lips but she bites them back, opting to kiss Penelope instead, slow and languidly, and she can still taste Penelope on her tongue, on her lips, all over her mouth. Her senses are overwhelmed as she slides into bed next to the witch, a hand on her cheek. 

Penelope's quiet, introspective, watching Josie as if trying to memorize a spell, her own heart rate returning to normal. Josie’s eyes are dark in the dim light, her pupils still blown. 

“What?” Josie asks, hand running down Penelope’s cheek to her shoulder and down her arm, fingertips drawing lazy patterns that Penelope knows to be are the siphon’s favorite constellations in the sky. She could make out Orion easily, then Gemini, and then Scorpio and Andromeda. 

“Nothing,” Penelope replies, eyes closing with Josie’s soft ministrations. 

“You’re thinking.” 

“I’m always thinking, Josie,” Penelope replies with a smirk, eyes closing again as she pulls her duvet to cover them both, head nustling into the pillow. 

“Tell me — please? Pretty please?” 

“Oh, so _now_ you’re begging.” 

“Is it working?”

“It’s definitely doing something. Anyway,” she deflects quickly because falling back into bed with Josie was something out of a dream, but she wanted to get these words out. “I was thinking,” Penelope begins, eyes open as she moves a hand to Josie’s hip under the covers, grabbing on and holding tight. “This city is magical, but it's more magical with you here.” 

Josie has no words, she simply moves closer to Penelope to capture her lips in a kiss before they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

The last thought she has before her mind drifts away to memories of crepes, museums, and cobblestone streets is that she is totally, absolutely, devastatingly, head-over-heels in love with Penelope Park and when this is all over, when they get Hope back, it can only end in heartbreak for them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let us know your thoughts in the comments or come yell at us @saltziepark and @liz_mikaelson about this fic, the finale tonight, and anything you little old heart desires <3


	3. we’re diving in the deep end

Heartbreak comes in almost the same form it did last time. Her sister’s always had a talent for timing.

Her dreams are heavenly, and she’s safely wrapped up in Penelope’s arms, and all of that is ripped away by the loud ringing of her phone. 

It takes her a moment to actually register where she is, naked, in Penelope’s bed, in Penelope’s apartment, in Paris, and another to realize that it's her own phone, ringing off the hook. 

She rushes across the room and accepts the call, immediately greeted by a cacophony of questions from Lizzie. “I’ve been trying to call you, Josie! Was something wrong with your phone? You said you’d call on your way to the airport? Are you there yet? Well obviously you’re there, your flight leaves in ten minutes.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“Jo, Josie, I know you can hear me! You’re in Paris for god sake, not in fucking Mordor!” Lizzie presses and across the room, Penelope sits up, the sheet sliding down to her hips, providing a rather distracting sight, and Josie can see the marks she left on her and — “JOSIE!,” her sister yells. 

“I can hear you,” she sighs, and her voice sounds much rawer than she’d like. Time for her funeral. 

“Liz, we’re running a little late, we’re going to have to take the next flight.” 

“The nex—the next flight?!” Lizzie explodes and Josie holds the phone away from her ear, exchanging an eye roll with Penelope and realizes belatedly that she, too, is naked and Penelope is watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. 

She grabs a blanket off of the couch and wraps it around her shoulders like a shawl. 

“Nothing I didn’t see all night long,” Penelope says to Josie, a smirk on her lips that Josie wants to kiss off. 

“What was that? What was that?! Was that—? Are you? Josette, don’t you dare tell me you’re late because you and Hades couldn’t keep it in your pants for two nights—” Josie laughs despite herself, but she refuses to be chastised for what arguably was the best orgasm of her life. 

“Gotta go, Lizzie! Plane to catch!” Josie yells into the phone, dropping it to the couch as soon as she hits ‘end’ as if she had been burned by the offending device. 

“You knew she could hear,” Josie says slowly, walking over to join Penelope by the bed, shedding the blanket as she does. Penelope swallows deeply, her mouth dry at the sight of Josie coming towards her, a lioness stalking her prey. 

“What are you going to do about it?”

And fuck it, they’ve already missed their flight. She crawls up the bed, straddling Penelope, her legs on either side of her. Josie looks down at her through hooded eyes, slowly, slowly, trailing her hands over the exposed skin of her thighs, higher and higher, until she can hear Penelope inhale sharply. 

She takes her time, the sweetest kind of torture, until she has Penelope dangerously close to begging. They don’t have the time for this. They definitely don’t have the time for Penelope to spin her around in the shower, press her against the cold tiles and warm her up with gentle hands.

By the time they make it outside, more or less dressed (and if Josie is sporting a few hickies on her neck from their activity, Penelope has the kindness to spell a concealer over them before they go, thats her business) the sun is bright on the streets of Paris, almost blinding, and Penelope's just carrying down her last bag when Josie’s phone rings again. 

“I’ve booked you on the next flight,” her sister greets her, “please try not to miss this plane, too.”

“Lizzie,” Josie sighs into the phone at her sister’s icy tone. It’s not just that. Despite the distance, she can feel the concern, the worry, the fear seeping through the twin bond. 

She hears Lizzie breathe several times before she speaks. “Please just come home, Jo. Dad is absolutely useless, and everything is going to hell, and Hope _still isn’t back_ ,” and her sister's voice breaks at the statement, almost, before she continues, “and if Satan is what makes you happy, I will support you gallivanting off to Paris at any _other_ time. But —I —we—need you now.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Josie mutters, because somehow, in the harsh light of day, she has absolutely no idea what she’s doing anymore. 

All she knows is that on the other side of the world, Lizzie's in pain. 

On the other side of the world, Hope's missing. 

On the other side of the world, everything is falling to pieces. 

“We shouldn’t have missed the flight,” she says.

“No,” Lizzie mutters, “you _really_ shouldn’t have.”

She hates the shiver in her sister’s voice, the way she knows that Lizzie, without Hope, is Lizzie without her anchor, lost and flailing and scared, drowning with the concussive embrace of water all around her. 

“I’m sorry, we got drunk,” she pauses before the next part, her heart aching despite herself. 

“It was a mistake, Liz.” But dammit, it wasn’t a mistake. Nothing that felt that good, that soothed her aching heart and soul, could ever, ever be a mistake. 

“I don’t think you regret it much,” Lizzie chuckles and she knows her sister far too well because as upset as Lizzie is with her at this moment, she really does know Josie, inside and out. 

“Look, you’ll be here soon, I’ll come to pick you up in Daddy’s car. M.G. and Pedro have been bugging me about getting out of the school for a while.”

It’s only when they’ve hung up that Josie turns around to be met with the sight of Penelope, her lips tightly pressed together into a tight line, and god, she should not have said that. 

She didn’t mean — she just meant the flight — the expression on Penelope’s face makes it more than clear that any kind of explanation will fall on deaf ears as Penelope busies herself, throwing a hand out as she hails a cab, conversing in fast French with the driver and slamming her door before Josie even has a chance to get into the car.

On the way to the gate, eighty minutes later of icy silence later, she reaches out for Penelope’s wrist, stops her march. “Look,” she begins, “I didn’t mean—Lizzie was just—” and she kind of hates, in that moment, how much of a stumbling, stupid mess she still is when faced with an angry Penelope, but she takes a deep breath and tries to smile even as Penelope is looking at her with daggers in her eyes. 

“Last night wasn’t a mistake to me,” she manages, but Penelope just shakes her head and continues onward, not even sparing Josie a second glance. 

They’re well over the Atlantic by the time Penelope turns to face her.

Perhaps, maybe, hopefully, this sudden coldness between them is grating on her nerves too.

“I believe you,” she says, “about last night not being a mistake,” and Josie feels a quiet glimmer of hope that is squashed out by Penelope’s next words. 

“But, that’s not really the point. I just thought that things had changed more than they did. That you stopped saying whatever Lizzie wants to hear. That you stopped fighting for everybody else and put yourself first. Because you didn’t fight for what you wanted, last year. You didn't — whatever, it’s fine.” Penelope’s voice turns raw and she stops speaking, swallowing hard. 

_You didn’t fight for me_ remains unsaid between them as Penelope turns back to flicking through her magazine and Josie burns with shame. 

Because Josie had never fought for them, not really. 

She may have tracked her ex-girlfriend halfway around the world, but she hadn’t run after Penelope when she had left. She had written though — thousands of letters that she tossed into the flames whenever she had finished getting the words out. It had been cathartic. It has been the coward’s way out too. Penelope didn’t deserve platitudes in ink from a girl too afraid to take what she wanted, even when it — she — was right in front of her. But that Josie was gone.

She doesn’t know how to begin explaining that everything is different, that everything, everything, their whole lives, have changed in the past year. 

That she is different. 

That everything is different. And it had all been Penelope’s doing. She lit the match that started the blaze and Josie burned brighter now for her, because of her. 

* * *

Josie falls asleep, her head drifting slowly to Penelope’s shoulder and the witch starts, but even in her anger, even as she felt shards of glass in her stomach drifting down from her throat that had lodged themselves in her windpipe at the very breath of the word _mistake_ , she can’t bring herself to move Josie. She places a kiss to Josie’s temple, inhaling the scent of her own shampoo in Josie’s hair that ignites a longing in her stomach. A longing for last night, for this morning, before Josie had cowed to Lizzie yet again. 

Lizzie brings M.G. to the airport and Josie's grateful. Another buffer is exactly what she needs right now. 

“You would think with how serious they are about their looks in Paris, you could have gotten the smell of sulfur off of you in a year, Park,” Lizzie greets Penelope. 

Penelope looks her up and down for several seconds, one eyebrow raised and Josie wonders if they’re seeing the same thing, Lizzie’s bloodshot eyes and tired gaze, her disheveled hair and her pale skin. “Loving the dredged through the hedges look, Saltzman,” she snipes back, “very nouvelle couture.”

“Bite me, Penelope.” 

“Not even if you paid me.” 

“Hey hey, Peez, it’s _so_ great to see you. How’s Paris been? You’re totally glowing! ” M.G. says quickly, before Lizzie and Penelope turned their verbal sparring into actual blows. It would never come to that, Josie knew. But they always danced on the precipice with each other. 

M.G. hugs the witch while shooting a cautious look at Josie, who shrugs. She was neither Penelope’s nor Lizzie’s keeper, but the traded barbs brought her back to an easier time, when they weren’t dealing with an unknown force and a missing Hope Mikaelson. 

“Are you two finished?” Josie sighs, dragging her suitcase behind her. Lizzie smirks at her and Penelope chooses not to meet her eyes. 

This was going to be a long car ride. 

“Pedro is waiting for us in the parking lot,” Lizzie explains. 

“He’s pretty addicted to Animal Crossing so don’t be offended if he doesn’t talk to you, but he couldn’t shut up about a certain spawn of Satan on the way here.”

Lizzie groans at that and Penelope beams as they make their way to the car and pile in, Pedro sitting between Josie and Penelope in the backseat with M.G. at the wheel and Lizzie sitting shotgun. 

“Penelope, I—” Josie tries, even though this is the worst time to attempt to clear the air, but everything feels murky and foggy with them, even after an eight hour flight. 

“Don’t, Josie,” Penelope whispers lightly, so lightly that Josie barely hears it. The witch settles herself in next to Pedro, watching his character sing at the moon and laughing along with him. 

Lizzie turns around in her seat and gives Josie a look that the brunette tries to shrug off, but she looks again at Penelope who is staring resolutely down, and even with Josie’s silent pleadings, they go unanswered. They’re saved from the awkwardness of it all as M.G. turns up the stereo and Vampire Weekend blasts through the speakers. 

She watches, out of the corner of her eye, as Penelope and Pedro bop along to the music, trying to stop M.G.’s rather horrendous attempts at singing, and fuck, Josie is so, so gone for her, and she keeps screwing it up, keeps messing every chance up. It's almost tragically inevitable at this point, so why is she surprised? 

“What did you do?” Lizzie asks her as soon as they’re at the school. 

“What makes you think I did anything?” Josie drags her suitcase behind her, watches Penelope disappear down the hallway with M.G., laughing as he makes yet another Marvel joke and her heart breaks at the distance (not even one hundred yards, but it felt like miles and miles) between her and Penelope, between them all day. She could barely think about when they were skin to skin this morning and it didn’t feel like she was close enough. 

Penelope had whispered prayers against her neck as she moved her hands over Josie’s wet skin in the shower, drinking water droplets and thoroughly fogging up the mirror as the water splashed down on them. That felt like years ago now, a chasm of unspoken thoughts in Josie’s mind. 

“You have guilty eyes and you’re sporting your resting pouty face. And she looks like someone stole her puppy,” Lizzie’s voice interrupts her train of thought. 

“Lizzie, it's after midnight. I’ve been on a plane for eight hours and I smell and I am so tired,” Josie states simply, the exhaustion in her words softening Lizzie’s expression. 

“You two were so ready to Uhaul this morning—" Lizzie prompts and Josie says nothing as she collapses on her bed, grasping a pillow to her chest as she stares up at the ceiling of their bedroom. 

“You really want to talk to me about Penelope?” Josie asks, leaning on an elbow to watch a symphony of expressions dance across Lizzie’s face. She rolls her eyes, bites her lip as if she was biting back words, and nods silently. 

“I don’t want to think about where Hope is or isn’t right now, Jo,” Lizzie starts and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. “You and Satan, sorry — Penelope —you felt so happy this morning. I could feel it coming off of you in waves when I called, so something changed.”

“I was happy this morning. She —she heard me tell you that it was a mistake. Not that missing the flight was a mistake, which it was, but then it turned into this whole thing where she basically told me that I haven’t changed. That I am still catering to you, which,” Josie prefaces quickly, “I know I wasn’t the best at telling you what I wanted, but this isn’t about me now. It’s about Hope. It’s about getting her back and safe, for you, for all of us.” 

“She better watch her fucking step around me because so help me —” Lizzie fumed, nearly getting up off of the bed. 

“She was right, Lizzie. I didn’t fight for her after she left. I just — I let her go. You’re doing everything in your power, you’re _killing yourself_ to get Hope back and I sat there and watched her leave.” Josie sits up at this, swinging her feet off the bed and onto the floor with a dull thud, gripping the edge of the bed with her hands. 

“That’s different,” Lizzie sighs, falling onto the bed next to her. “Penelope, very obviously, I might add, much to my absolute disgust, wants you back. She kept on sneaking glances at you during the drive. You stopped trying to get her attention and looked out the window, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of you.” Lizzie sits up and rolls her eyes at herself again. Confronting everything she felt about Hope had made her far too sentimental and she blames the tribrid for it, but she knows Josie needs to hear what she has to say. 

“She’s going to do the whole distant, sulky, moody child of darkness emo vibe thing for a few days and shut you out like she always does, but, she has an annoying habit of always drifting back to you when she’s finished punishing you. It’s her M.O. and while I hate that she plays these stupid fucking games with you, she’s probably afraid that you don’t want her as much as she wants you. Which is revolting because you’re clearly made for each oth—”

“You can stop, Lizzie,” Josie laughs, gnawing the chapstick off of her bottom lip as she considers her sister’s words. 

“But, Josie, she doesn’t go to school here anymore. She doesn’t even live on this continent. And she will leave _when_ we get Hope back because we will get her back from whatever or whomever the hell took her from us, and her leaving again — that’s something even bigger than the two of you.” 

Josie opens her mouth to speak, but Lizzie stops her, moving from her bed to join Josie on hers, their shoulders touching. 

“You fought off your own darkness because you’re strong. Strong enough for anyone and anything that comes your way. And that includes Hades in heels. So, whatever it is that you’re doing with her, just think about the endgame.” 

“When did you get so wise?” Josie asks, leaning her head on Lizzie’s shoulder. 

“I’ve always been this wise,” Lizzie haughtily declares and Josie chuckles, despite herself. 

“She has no reason to believe me, anymore. Or to trust that I’m going to fight for us, this time.”

“You’ll have to convince her,” Lizzie says, “or let her leave again. Which, I would just like to make clear, I personally support very much. But since she seems to make you stupidly happy, fight for her.” 

Lizzie curls into the pillows on Josie’s bed, her mind made up about where she was sleeping tonight. 

“Thank you for coming back,” she mutters quietly, and Josie lays down pulling the covers over them as she wraps an arm around her. “And for bringing her.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers. 

“No,” Lizzie mutters. 

Josie drifts in and out of sleep, thinks and thinks about Penelope and wishes desperately that everything was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at us in the comments and let us know your thoughts


	4. another day, shipwrecked

They perform the locator spell the next day. 

Josie’s not in a great mood. Penelope’s bed was much more comfortable, sleep was hard to come by (thanks to Lizzie’s snoring) and Lizzie waking her up in the morning by teasing her about the hickies on her neck (the concealment spell having worn off) didn’t help either. 

“I cannot believe you let her bite you like that! Is that a kink you have? Is Park secretly a vampire?” 

She watches Penelope, surrounded by the witches, the center of attention, like the alpha returning to her pack. She looks right at home, as if she had never left. She doesn’t look jet-lagged and her hair and makeup are perfect and it’s just too much. 

Josie watches one of the witches, Mikaela, she thinks, reach over to place a hand on Penelope’s arm and she instantly sees red.

“I’d love to eat my cereal on a table that isn’t going to burst into flames, darling sister,” Lizzie says dryly next to her, “because that’s Mikaela and she’s dating one of the wolves, has been for years. Jo, turn the jealousy from a ten to a two or go Hulk out away from my breakfast.”

Josie looks down to where the heavy oak table is shaking, just slightly, beneath them, and takes a deep breath. 

She’s calm. 

Totally and utterly calm. 

By the time Lizzie drags her to Dad’s study after breakfast, Penelope is already there, kneeling on the ground, surrounded by candles, the Super Squad spread out throughout the room. 

They need Penelope because her coven had written the words of the spell, had imbued them with the power to transcend worlds, dimensions, to find that which was lost, even the unmarked and masked. 

Josie had found the spell a week prior and had been trying to think of the best way to tell Lizzie and Dad what it meant, what she knew she had to do. The decision to hop on a flight to get to Penelope has been easy, the easiest thing she had done, but telling Lizzie that one of her only hopes was Penelope Park had been a hell of a lot harder. 

Josie hopes that the spell works, hopes that they will get Hope back, safe and sound. 

“Sandalwood, Milton,” Penelope requests, her entire focus on the pattern she’s drawing on the ground. 

“And I need another witch, Saltzman.”

Josie and Lizzie exchange glances before Lizzie takes a step back, the decision made. Josie takes a deep breath and walks over to Penelope, kneels down in front of her. And fuck, it stings when Penelope barely glances up, just for a second, before shaking her head. 

“The _other_ Saltzman.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Penelope,” she bites out, the pain of rejection burning. Josie feels her face flush, but now she was mad as well, lashing out at Penelope for the silent treatment. “You know our magic is more compatible. We can do _one_ spell together.”

Penelope places the sandalwood M.G. just handed her down and looks up to meet Josie’s gaze, and she finds herself captivated almost against her will. She softens for a moment, but then the mask slips into place once more in a flash. 

“I need whichever one of you two has the strongest emotional connection to Hope. I thought that was Lizzie, but by all means, I’ve been wrong about you a lot recently. If you think it’s you, stay right where you are.”

Josie burns with the pain of humiliation, not at all made better by Landon’s voice. When the hell had he gotten here? 

“Josie and Hope are really good friends, if that helps.”

Penelope fixes him with a glare. “Didn’t Mikaelson come to her senses and break up with you? Why are you still here?”

“We’re still friends,” Landon replies and Penelope looks like she’s seconds away from turning him into a statue, as Josie gets her to feet, trading places with Lizzie. 

Lizzie ignores Landon’s statement, her chest aching because they were wasting so much time and were no closer to finding Hope. 

“You better not accidentally turn me into a ferret, Park,” Lizzie threatens Penelope, placing her hands in Penelope’s as if she was touching something unsavory. 

“While I’m a proud Slytherin, I would never waste that kind of magic on you. Now, hold still and grab my hand like you mean it. Pretend it’s Hope’s.” 

“Why would Lizzie want to pretend it's-” Landon begins to ask before Penelope opens her eyes once more and levels him with a glare that looked like it could cut diamonds. 

“Kirby, either shut up or fly away where someone else can answer your dumb questions. Who even invited him?” She tosses out to the group, looking around at M.G. who is rubbing the back of his neck with his hand and Alaric who wouldn’t meet her gaze. Of course, he was dumber than all of them and so, so blind to what his daughter’s actually wanted. 

“I need to concentrate, birdboy. Or I might _accidentally_ cause collateral damage.”

Josie watches, from her corner, as Penelope begins whispering the words of the ancient spell, magic washing through the room around her, her hands glowing red where she's touching Lizzie. 

She’s not sure how long the spell takes, how long the room lingers in silent anticipation until finally, finally the magic evaporates from the room and Penelope gets to her feet, slowly. 

“I saw her,” she says. “She’s sedated and cloaked, but she’s definitely north of here.”

She looks around the room for a moment before snapping into full general mode. Like Patton or MacArthur, but ten times scarier and way better looking in leather and heels. If Josie was being honest with herself, it was hot. Really hot. 

“Alright, roadtrip to get Mikaelson back. I can keep performing the spell on the way, the closer we get, the more exact it will be. Ric, get your suburban dad minivan ready. M.G., Kaleb, you’re team food.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Landon inserts lamely, Raf standing with him.

“Fly away,” Penelope sighs. “Or load everyone’s bags into the car.”

As the room empties, she looks up to meet Josie’s eyes. 

“Are you going to handle this?” she questions, glancing at where Lizzie is still kneeling on the ground, pale as a sheet. Josie stays silent, biting back a ton of questions even though this is the first time in over a day that Penelope has even looked at her for this long. 

Penelope looks back down at Lizzie, who is biting her lip in worry. Josie can feel it too, the clenching in her chest and the anxiety. But Lizzie has never been this paralyzed with fear before. This was different. 

“Chill, Saltzman, we’ll get Sleeping Beauty back and you can confess your feelings and have a fairytale ending.”

It’s not exactly - kind- but it’s a lot nicer than Penelope usually is to Lizzie, who seems to snap out of her reverie, turning to glare at Josie.

“What did you tell her?” Her voice is slow and measured but the anxiety Josie felt earlier quickly shifts to rage. 

Penelope chuckles, walking towards the door. “She didn’t need to tell me anything. I have eyes. And besides, Hope and I e-mail.”

By the time everyone is in the car (Alaric decided it was time for the SUV rather than the minivan) Lizzie has calmed down a bit, enough to complain about having to share the middle row with Penelope and Josie. 

Penelope ends up between them, on the virtue of being small enough to fit into the middle seat, and god, this is not how Josie wants to spend her day, squeezed between a window and her ex, who may never look her in the eye again. 

But it’s going to be fine. She’ll listen to her music, look out the window and try not to throw up on Penelope’s Louboutins. They really need to talk about appropriate road trip outfits because no one, absolutely no one, should be strapped in for an eight-hour drive in leather booties, black jeans, and a leather jacket. 

But Josie knows that this is all part of Penelope’s armor, as she swallows deeply, her head against the cool window. Because this is torture, this drive and being next to Penelope thinking about her jeans and the way they accentuate Penelope’s legs and remind her of the way they were wrapped around- and she will not be going down this train of thought, thank you very much. 

She makes it fine through the first hour of the drive, but then Dad, of course, decides to take a particularly curvy road. She tries to stay focused on the road and on the sound of the music, takes deep calming breaths, and it takes her a second until she realizes that someone is rubbing circles on her back. 

Penelope. 

Penelope is rubbing circles on her back and Josie leans into the touch, incomparably calming. Twenty-seven circles. She keeps looking out the window, afraid that the moment this becomes real, Penelope will pull away. 

Lizzie even stays silent and Josie can see her looking their way, fighting an eye roll, but she must be struggling herself with how slow Alaric was driving because she stays silent, worry knitting her eyebrows together. 

Penelope’s hand stays on her back, lingering, and Josie feels like she can finally breathe again when the sound of a stomach growling, loudly, disrupts the silence. 

Penelope spins around in her seat, glaring at Raf and Landon. “Didn’t I say to eat before we left?”

Her eyes are glittering or something, sparkling maybe. Sparkling with rage. Fuck. Josie is not going to make it through this trip in one piece.

They throw their hands up in defense, each pointing at the other, the back half of the car about to erupt in an argument over the adequacy of their lunches when the rumble happens again. 

“Okay, that definitely wasn’t me,” Landon says, and Josie nearly has to hold Penelope back because she looks like she is going to jump over the backseat and try to take a swing at the phoenix. Lizzie is looking at Penelope like she wants nothing more than for her to do just that. 

“It’s me,” a little voice says, followed by an even smaller head popping out from behind the last row of seats. Pedro smiles at the group and waves to Penelope, a Switch in his hand and headphones dangling from his ears. 

“Pedro!” Lizzie shrieks, “how did you get in here?”

He shrugs, easy-going. “I snuck in while they,” he nods at Raf and Landon, “were distracted by Madeline Johnson.”

“You’re way too young to be here,” Penelope sighs. 

“You said I was big.”

She shakes her head firmly. “I’m not taking the fall for you, little man. I said you were getting bigger every time I saw you. Not the same.”

“I can help,” he chances a glance at Lizzie. “You know I can.”

“We’re not turning back now,” Lizzie decrees and Penelope nods and who knew that Lizzie would find an ally in Penelope in the middle of all of this. 

“Could one of you two geniuses get him up here? He can’t spend the car ride in the trunk.”

Three minutes later, Pedro is squeezed in between Penelope and Lizzie, sorting through the snacks and looking perfectly content.

“She isn’t scared, you know?” Pedro says to Lizzie as he takes a bite out of a granola bar. 

“What? What do you mean? You mean Hope?” Lizzie’s heart races and Pedro just looks at her with a smile, legs dangling in the air. 

“I can feel her. I can’t see her or who she’s with, but she knows that we’re coming.” 

Lizzie relaxes her rigid posture, a little. Four people in the middle row means that Penelope is terribly, wonderfully close to her, and Josie tries to keep her breathing even as she stares out the window, Penelope pressed against her. 

By the time they arrive at the motel, it’s dark outside. Alaric gets four rooms and Pedro clings to Penelope’s leg, before M.G. and Kaleb scoop him up over their heads and take him to their room. 

Landon and Raf fight over the bed in their room that looks like it isn’t riddled with stains, while Lizzie follows Alaric into another room, sending a smirk and a wink over her shoulder that makes Josie wish she could go back to a past where her sister didn’t think she was a matchmaker. 

Josie and Penelope are left staring at the key in Josie’s hand before Penelope grabs it with an eye roll. 

“Come on, I need to wash your dad’s car off of me,” Penelope says as she’s already walking to their room. She doesn’t look at Josie. Hasn’t since this morning and it still burns. 

She opens the door and drops her luggage. “You’re actually kidding me. Is your dad _really_ that cheap?” 

Josie peeks around Penelope and can’t help but bite back a small smile before schooling her expression into manufactured shock. The room (it can barely be called that, to be honest) is smaller than her room back at school, complete with a rickety desk in one corner, stained and peeling wallpaper, a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in fifty years and...one bed. 

“We got the last rooms available. You heard the manager,” Josie replies, pushing past Penelope and dropping her suitcase in the corner, eyes everywhere but on the witch still in the doorway. She swallows loudly and bends down to unzip her suitcase, taking off her sneakers. 

“Whatever,” Penelope sighs, closing the door behind her as she places her suitcase on the bed, grabbing out pajamas and her toiletries and disappearing into the bathroom with a slam of the door behind her. 

Josie sits on the bed, her nausea finally waning now that they were out of that car and she wasn’t pressed up against Penelope, her perfume and touch overwhelming her senses. 

By the time Penelope is done with her shower and emerges from the bathroom, Josie has built herself a makeshift bed on the floor, pulling an extra blanket out of the closet and praying to all of the gods that it wasn’t covered in things she didn’t want to think about. 

Penelope stops, inhaling sharply before Josie grabs her pajamas, toothbrush, and a towel and flees to the bathroom. Josie takes two, then two more shuddering breaths behind the safety of the closed door, before turning to the shower, the steam lingering in the room from Penelope’s use. 

She showers and brushes her teeth slowly, watching herself in the mirror as she gnaws on her lip, readying herself to go back out into the room that they were sharing. Josie opens the door slowly and Penelope is sitting up in bed, a book in her lap and her hair in a messy bun. She’s gorgeous in that carefree way that takes Josie’s breath away and the siphon lets herself stare for just a moment, an agonizing moment, before she walks over to her bag to drop her things. 

Turning to her pile of blankets, Josie fluffs her pillow slowly before dropping to the floor, her back to Penelope who rolls her eyes at herself, placing the book on the bedside table. 

“Josie?” Penelope asks after a moment of silence. She gets no response, which is to be expected because she had been the one ignoring the siphon all day long and most of yesterday as well, so, biting back annoyance at herself and at her damned weak heart when it came to Josie, Penelope tries again. 

“Jo, come here.”

“Penelope, it's fine. The floor is….it’s fine.” Josie doesn’t turn around, and the vice that had been around Penelope’s heart since hearing Josie talk to Lizzie yesterday clenches just a bit tighter. 

Penelope’s next breath feels like she’s breathing glass, because even in a room no larger than a shack, Josie is all around her, overwhelming her senses like an addiction she couldn’t break. And she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. 

“No, the floor is disgusting, like the rest of this place,” Penelope replies dryly, looking up at a stain that was directly over the bed with a groan. 

“Josie, come to bed.” It’s said simply, the exhaustion in Penelope’s words drawing out the consonants, but it makes Josie’s heart skip a beat. She doesn't move for thirty seconds (not that she was counting at all), but then Josie turns over and looks at her with her sad, doe eyes and pouty mouth and Penelope pats the open side of the bed. 

Grabbing the pillow and blanket that she had stolen from the bed while Penelope had been showering, Josie gets up and takes a few steps towards the free side of the bed. 

Penelope’s heart stutters in her chest and she is weightless, watching Josie in a shirt that was far too big, her collarbones peeking out under the thin material (collarbones that she kissed countless times a few nights ago) and shorts far too short to be legal in any state. 

She closes her mouth because she’s certainly staring, willing herself not to think of the way a very naked Josie had walked towards her yesterday morning, intent on making them even later for their flight. 

Josie gets under the sheets, careful not to stray towards the middle of the bed, staying as far away from Penelope as possible, her back to the witch as Penelope whispers a charm and the light goes out in the room. 

Settling herself down in bed with a hand under her cheek, facing Josie’s back, she watches Josie breathe. Watches her ribcage expand and contract. Penelope’s fingers burn, actually _burn_ and tingle from where she yearns to reach out to Josie. She feels the pull, recognizes it as the same tug on her heart that Josie has had for years and she's always been so terrible with walls where Josie is concerned. She thought an ocean could stop her feelings and didn't even last twenty-four hours in Josie's presence before breaking once again.

She can feel Josie shiver next to her because the room might be the size of a fucking shoebox, but it certainly has no central heating and Penelope throws caution to the wind and wrecks her own walls, so painstakingly built, takes the chance, moving closer to press her front to Josie’s back in a way that has the siphon sigh in relief. 

She’s warm to the touch, her shirt riding up her stomach and Penelope slings an arm over Josie’s side that Josie clings to, pulling it closer to her chest and intertwining their fingers.

“I’m still mad at you,” Penelope breathes into Josie’s neck, her whispered words against Josie's pulse point sending shivers down her spine because they fit together so damn well, even now, even as broken as they are. 

Penelope tries not to sink into the feeling of Josie in her arms once more, tries not to acknowledge that her knees fit perfectly behind Josie’s thighs or marvel at how soft the skin on Josie’s stomach has always felt. She tries and fails miserably because she’s only human, after all. 

“I know,” Josie replies, and this feels too good to be true, a breach in Penelope’s stone walls. Penelope finally, finally close to her again, voluntarily. She presses a kiss to Penelope’s hand as she speaks, her eyes closed as she feels Penelope's heartbeat at her back. The vice around Penelope’s heart loosens at Josie’s gesture and she can feel herself blinking back tears. Her walls are destroyed and her heart beats in a rhythm of Josie, Josie, Josie. 

Josie hears Penelope whisper goodnight against her neck, the ghost of a kiss lingering on her skin before she is pulled into the darkness. Her vision swirls with images of Hope, bound, gagged, and blindfolded in a dark cavern, the walls softened by waves, blood on the wall by her head, and a gash on her forehead. 

She wakes up to Lizzie’s scream from the next room over.


	5. the battle never ends

Penelope jolts awake, nearly falling out of the bed as Josie shoots to her feet, already halfway out the door and pounding on Lizzie and her dad’s room. Alaric opens it, his face flashing angrily for a moment before he realizes that it’s Josie with Penelope hot on her heels. 

“Tell me you saw it too, Jo!” Lizzie screams, tears running down her face. “It felt you there. I felt her! Daddy, she’s-” Lizzie dissolves into tears and Alaric goes to sit by her on the bed, pulling her into a hug as sobs course through her body and Josie feels her heart clench and break. Lizzie’s pain in her own body always felt foreign, like a second heart or pair of lungs and this time, the feeling was enough to send shivers down Josie’s spine. 

Penelope’s hand on Josie’s arm brings Josie back and she wants to sink into the feeling, but the tendrils of the dream are slipping away like quicksand. 

Josie finds her voice as Penelope slots her hand into hers, because even now, even after everything and their apparent stalemate from moments before (or had it been hours?), Penelope would always ground her. 

A quick glance at the clock and it was nearly two a.m. and Josie feels unmoored. They had only been asleep for minutes, right? _Focus, Josie,_ she tells herself, blinking past tears from Lizzie’s hurt. 

“Dad, they’re keeping her somewhere dark. Underground, maybe. Rough stone walls like a tomb or catacombs or even a cave and she’s injured and, and she had a gash on her head like she isn’t healing, so maybe they drugged her and she can’t access her powers? I only saw flashes of it.” Josie is rambling, her voice shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s her worry or Lizzie’s but either way, her chest feels tight and her knees feel weak. 

Penelope raises her hand, the other one still holding onto Josie and levitates a notepad over from the table. 

“Draw what you remember,” she suggests, and her voice sounds so very gentle, memories of times long, long ago springing back to the front of Josie’s mind, and she could fall into this, could fall back into Penelope, but she can’t, because Hope is drugged and injured and Lizzie’s in shambles. 

Josie’s hand shakes as she takes the pen from Penelope, dropping it to the floor. Penelope bends quickly to retrieve it, placing it delicately in Josie’s hand before her eyes meet Josie’s. Oceans of uncertainty swim in her dark brown orbs and Penelope melts underneath Josie’s gaze. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Penelope says softly, taking Josie’s face in her hands and leveling her with a look. “Take a deep breath and just think about your dream. Block everything else out, okay? You can do this.”

It calms Josie more than she could ever put into words. Penelope remains still, not breaking eye contact. Josie sees defiance, pride in her eyes and the set of her shoulders and the way she stands tall, ready and willing to fight. She’s always been so, so in control of her emotions. 

Despite her posture, there is tenderness in her eyes that makes Josie’s stomach swoop and her heart race. Every intimate moment they have shared together shines in Penelope’s irises and Josie knows now is not the time, but she aches for closeness with Penelope, not this sprawling chasm that has opened up between them that threatens to swallow her whole. 

The connection between them lingers and lingers, and Josie is caught in Penelope’s gaze, letting the calm Penelope exudes wash over her. Slowly, she begins sketching, her eyes on Penelope instead of the paper.

By the time she looks down, there is a circle in front of her, a snake devouring its own tail, and she has seen this before, maybe, and when she holds it out Alaric, he gasps in shock. 

“The Hollow,” he breathes out, and yes, this is very, very much bad news. 

Lizzie, still in tears and wrapped around Alaric, looks up at Josie, their eyes meeting. 

Penelope is still intoxicatingly close to her, clearing her throat. “The Hollow?” she questions. 

She’s never told Penelope this story. Never told her about how she and Lizzie made it possible for Hope to live and Klaus to die, and while the school might have been awash with rumours, this particular secret has been kept very well under wraps. 

“A couple of months before you came to the school,” she begins, slowly, “Hope was possessed by the spirit of a witch named Inadu. She’d been the daughter of two powerful tribes, possessing immeasurable amounts of dark magic, but she turned evil and was killed. Her spirit continued haunting New Orleans and demanding sacrifices so that she could return to life.” Josie pauses to take a deep breath before continuing 

“She went after Hope before she came to the Salvatore School. Her dad and her aunts and her uncle split the dark magic up between them and moved all over the world, far enough away from each other that the magic couldn’t gain strength.”

Penelope shakes her head. “This doesn’t sound promising.”

Josie sighs, and her hand reaches out for Penelope’s almost of its own accord. She intertwines their fingers before she realizes what she's done, and her heart skips a beat, but Penelope doesn’t let go. 

“When we were thirteen, Hope tried to reach out to her Dad, and well, a bunch of things happened, and there were vampire purists and her mom died. She ended up having to pull the Hollow out of her family and back into herself.”

Her grip on Penelope’s hand is tightening because the next part of the story is most difficult to tell. 

“It was killing her. She couldn’t live with the Hollow inside of her, and there was no way to destroy it. So Lizzie and I siphoned it out of her and placed it into Klaus Mikaelson. All of it. And he killed himself before the dark magic could drive him crazy and it died with him.”

“So, family history. Bad blood with the Mikaelsons, which is typical.” Josie laughs bitterly and Lizzie glares at Penelope, which she ignores. 

“But, you gotta catch me up quicker than that if we want to track her more precisely,” Penelope says assertively, and the flash of a leader that she displayed earlier in the day comes back in spades, hitting Josie low in her core as she grips Penelope’s arm with her free hand, her other still clasped to the witch’s.

It might be two in the morning, but Penelope looks alert. She looks ready to fight, ready to go to the ends of the world for Hope. Right by Josie’s side. 

“The dream and this symbol, are we thinking that someone took Hope and they want to put it back inside of her? Like, a possession? That’s why they took her?” 

Alaric nods, “It could very well be possible. A lot of people knew about the Hollow. She had the ability to possess people, so if she didn’t _actually_ die with Klaus, she could be controlling them. Or it could just be anyone attempting to harness that power.”

“Maybe we can find some locations connected to her, something you could use to pinpoint better where Hope is,” Josie suggests. 

“We need to research,” Penelope agrees, “but tomorrow. We’re of no use to Hope half asleep.”

“You’re right,” Josie sighs, an ache in her head that was pounding behind her eyelids with each beat of her heart. The pain searing through her body felt so real, dimmed only marginally by the twin bond.

“Lizzie?” she asks softly, looking at her sister with concern etched across her face. Penelope squeezes her hand again, just a tiny motion, her anchor, and Josie swallows. 

“Do you want me to do the spell? Like when we were kids?” 

Josie is sure Lizzie knows which one she means because she nods silently, pulling the covers up and over her body as she settles down in the bed. Alaric looks from one daughter to the next. 

“Bonnie taught me,” she explains simply and she turns to Penelope with a touch of blush on her cheeks. 

“Can I-” Josie motions to their connected hands and Penelope understands instantly, nodding her head as their clasped hands glow red. 

It feels like euphoria, coursing through Josie’s veins. Ecstasy and unimaginable warmth and Josie wonders and wonders how much magic they could create right now if she siphoned from Penelope with a kiss. Remembers all the times when she did, the sun shining brightly into the room and Penelope stretched out under her, lips swollen and red, her eyes glittering. She pushes the memory away and whispers the words to the sleeping spell, watches Lizzie’s eyes drop shut. 

When they make it back to their room after bidding goodnight to an Alaric who seems to be wearing a permanent frown, Josie crawls into bed, facing away from Penelope. 

Penelope lays down, eyes at the ceiling before she rolls her eyes at herself and moves to the center of the bed, throwing her arm over Josie and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, breathing in her scent like it was oxygen. 

“You’re scared,” she observes in the silence that follows and feels Josie nod and nestle herself more fully into Penelope. 

“She won’t stop at anything to get power and Hope’s the best vessel imaginable.” 

“We’ll get her back,” Penelope says simply and like it’s a promise, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe the two of them together, maybe everything that happened, maybe that could make them stronger in this fight. 

Josie wasn’t sure, but she loved Penelope’s determination (just like she loved everything about the witch). She sighs, biting her lip and pulling Penelope closer, conscious of their hearts beating in tandem. It only takes moments for sleep to claim her once more. 

She doesn't dream of cavernous walls and a manacled and shackled Hope, but of cobblestone streets and croissants and red wine and Penelope’s lips on her skin. She dreams of laughter and joy and Paris, of the stolen moments they had together.

* * *

When she wakes up, for a moment, the world seems almost whole, Penelope wrapped tightly around her, sun streaming into the room, and she could almost forget that they’re on a rescue mission, chasing after the reason Klaus Mikaelson was dead. 

Penelope’s on her side, her arm across Josie’s stomach and Josie lay on her back, watching the dust dance in the light. If she turned her face slightly, their noses would touch and Josie does just that, reaching out a hand to touch Penelope’s cheek, in awe of the way the sun makes her skin sparkle. 

But then Penelope shifts away from her, also waking up, sends her a forced smile before she gets out of bed, and the sliver of magic seems broken. The small truce between them, shared and spoken by night seems to have faded and Josie sighs into the pillows as the bathroom door slams. 

Penelope is happy to say goodbye to the motel room, far too happy, in Josie’s opinion. While the chasm between them feels less treacherous, it stretches far and wide. And by the time they are back in the car, and Penelope is busy chatting with Pedro, the memories of last night, Penelope’s hand in hers, the gentle comfort of her promise, it seems almost like a dream, too good to be true. 

They stop at a local coffee shop to pick up breakfast when Lizzie, who has been staring at Penelope all morning, pulls her to the side roughly. Penelope wrenches her arm free from the hold that Lizzie has on her and stands as tall as she can, eyes blazing as she takes in Lizzie's outfit. The desire to snap the suspenders off of Lizzie's pants is strong as Penelope grits her teeth to hold herself back. She was above petty violence, after all, preferring to fight with her words and magic and Lizzie looked like she was barely hanging on, bags under her eyes that were almost as shocking as her outfit, but perhaps hobo chic was in.

“What the fu-” 

“Look, Satan,” Lizzie starts, thankful for the height difference as she glares down at a Penelope who is trying to make herself taller. 

Before she can say anything more, behind her, all of the boys turn simultaneously and drop their coffee cups. Penelope, Lizzie, and Josie watch as their eyes glaze over, their mouths contorting into smiles, as they bolt towards the door, fighting to yank it open first. 

“She’s mine!”

“No, she’s mine!”

“I heard her voice first,” Kaleb growls, shoving M.G. and Raf out of the way to grab the door handle and make it onto the sidewalk first. 

Inside, Pedro, Penelope, Lizzie, and Josie are left staring at each other. 

“Monster,” Pedro sighs, sounding far older than his age. “Definitely a monster.”


	6. the tide, it takes me away from you

“We should go after them,” Josie sighs, as Penelope flags down a waitress and orders herself a double espresso. 

Pedro runs to the window of the cafe, watches the boys scuffle with each other in the street, while Alaric slams the door of the SUV intent on trying to stop the boys from approaching the - 

“It’s a group of ladies in the street. They look like they’re singing but there’s no sound!” Pedro says, turning back to Josie, Lizzie and Penelope, who downs the espresso calmly before cracking her knuckles. 

“That’s what’s making the boys all kinds of dumb right now,” Pedro concludes sagely. 

The trio of witches turn to each other, rolling their eyes as they all say “Sirens,” at the same time. 

“Yeah, those! Dorian taught us all about them. They’re dreamy,” Pedro finishes, a dazed look on his face as he peers out into the street at the assembled group of women and Alaric stumbling toward them. 

“Thankfully, you’re too young to experience their effects, little man,” Penelope says warmly, joining Pedro at the window to steer him to the door, Josie and Lizzie following after Josie paid the waitress far too much money for seven coffees, a hot cocoa, and double espresso, half of which ended up all over the tile floor. 

The conversation they needed to have definitely wasn’t one that they should have in front of normal people. 

“While it’s obvious the boys have dicks for brains right now - sorry, buddy,” Penelope says quickly as Pedro’s jaw drops as they gather on the sidewalk.

“You said a bad word!” Pedro points at her

“She says a lot of bad words,” Josie remarks to no one in particular, winking at Penelope who narrows her eyes at her, not unkindly, before turning back to the conversation at hand. 

“Gross,” Lizzie says with an eye roll, “but Penelope, annoyingly so, is right and we need to think fast about how to defeat these sea witches.” 

“We’re miles from the coast. This can’t be a coincidence,” Josie observes. Her brow is furrowed, Penelope sees, the stress written plainly across her face. 

“I’ll try to call Dorian,” Alaric offers, and Josie spins around to face him. 

“Why aren’t you affected?”

For a moment, they all fall silent, as they all ponder Josie’s questions, before Pedro’s voice interrupts. 

“Didn’t any of you pay attention in class? The Sirens don’t just sing for men, they sing for everyone. Except those whose hearts belong so firmly to someone that they can’t hear them.”

Josie thinks of Dad first, of the way how it's been over a decade and he’s so, so obviously still grieving for their mother. And it takes her a second to realise that she could be affected too then, but she isn’t. 

And neither is Penelope. 

She tries to chance a glance surreptitiously, sees very clearly that Penelope has come to the same conclusion she has, her lips drawn together in a thin line. 

It could be anyone - Josie has no reason to even assume- well, not no reason, but still- 

“As lovely as watching you idiots blush at each other is, can we save this for later and figure out how to defeat the damn devil choir,” Lizzie interrupts. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

They look over to the middle of the street, thankfully deserted and M.G. and Kaleb are involved in a full-on fistfight. Alaric storms over to them in a futile attempt to stop the melee. 

“Yeah,” Penelope says, and her voice sounds just a little bit off, a little less refined than it normally does. “We need to get them to stop singing.”

“No shit, Satan,” Lizzie sighs. “Hope would know what to do.”

“Well, she’s not here,” Penelope snipes, “so you’ll have to do without your Greek mythology pillow talk and we have to figure this out ourselves.”

Josie contemplates briefly whether Pedro’s information about the sirens flustered Penelope as much as it seems, before the words Greek mythology pillow talk remind her of something. 

Her hand taps against her hip, impatiently. 

“You told me about Hades and Persephone, once,” she interrupts the beginning fight between Penelope and her sister, “that the sirens had been sent to safeguard her, but that they obeyed the god of the underworld.”

“So is Greek mythology your idea of pillow talk too, Park?” Lizzie cackles and Josie turns to glare at her. 

She’s feeling _protective_ for some reason she can’t really put into words. Maybe it was the way that Penelope had calmed her down last night with just a touch, just a glance. Maybe it was the way that her cheeks burned red after Pedro’s words. Maybe it was nothing. 

“Weren’t you in a hurry to get going?” she snaps at her sister, who raises her hands and mimes a zipping motion. 

“You mean my Dad?” Pedro asks quietly. 

The question, so quietly uttered, is missed as the group escalates into a debate about whether to call Dorian or directly attempt to summon a god of the underworld, until Pedro clears his throat again. 

“I can do it,” he offers, clenching his fists together as Alaric joins them, clutching a hand to his over his left eye after getting hit with an errant punch thrown by Kaleb in the scuffle between the afflicted boys. Lizzie holds her hand to his cheek to heal him while rolling her eyes. Penelope barely conceals a laugh behind her hand, which merits a shove from Josie. 

“So Sirens, huh?” Alaric asks, winning the award for most obvious question ever asked in the face of imminent danger. Maybe he was actually concussed, Josie thinks, watching her dad warily, even as the black eye fades from Lizzie’s magic. 

Pedro tugs on Penelope’s arm, his mouth set in a thin line. “I said I can do it. I know how to banish them.” 

“You know how to banish them?” Penelope questions, diverting her attention away from Lizzie’s and Josie’s debate about summoning Greek gods and whether or not Alaric needed to be taken to a hospital. 

“My Dad may or may not be the God of the Underworld,” Pedro sighs, and finally, everyone falls silent as Lizzie spins around to glare at her father. 

“Your dad is Hades….? Did you know this?”

“No,” Alaric admits, looking more than a little defeated. He really needed to do deeper background checks. 

“It’s a long story, but we don’t have time for that, look!” He points to where the boys have finished clawing each other in the middle of the street and they’re all walking dazedly toward the sirens, who stand, arms outstretched like a terrible imitation of a girl group ready to break out in song. 

“You’re sure you can stop them?” Penelope asks, her instincts to protect Pedro far outweighing the need to protect the teenage boys intent on getting to the Sirens as quickly as possible. 

“I know exactly what to do,” Pedro assures her. Josie takes one look at them, her heart in her throat. The image of Penelope with Pedro makes Josie’s stomach drop in an unfamiliar way and her heart aches for something more. A future and a child with brown hair and green eyes and a life safe from all of this. But they had to get out of this mess first. 

“Go for it,” Penelope sighs, holding out one hand to him and the other to Josie, “but we’re coming with you to make sure you’re safe.”

Josie looks at the outstretched hand, hesitation written across her face and Penelope nearly growls at her. 

Now wasn’t the time for Josie’s indecision and it certainly wasn’t the time to dissect their - whatever they were to each other. 

“Take my fucking hand, Josie, and take some god damn magic. We have to protect him,” Penelope says through clenched teeth, which spurs Josie into motion as she grabs Penelope’s hand, stuttering a “ye-yeah, okay,” that had everything to do with the spark that she felt the moment their skin touched and had nothing to do with the fact that a ten-year-old was their only hope to getting out of this town in one piece. 

“Bossy,” Josie breathes after she has gotten her bearings, barely concealing a smile that breaks out across her face because siphoning from Penelope was _everything_. 

It was euphoria and comfort and it made her weak in the knees every single time. The rush of magic made her dizzy, and being close to Penelope like this made her feel breathless. Josie chances a glance at Penelope, who is biting her lower lip, silently asking her if she feels it too. If it affects her the way it affects Josie. She knows it had once- at one point, but maybe now, maybe things have changed. 

They had talked about it before, cooped up in Penelope’s room late one night and the words Penelope had used to describe Josie siphoning from her had been so vivid - “It’s like a rush, like the air getting knocked out of your lungs, but in a good way. Like being in the eye of a hurricane with everything swirling around you and your heartbeat in your ears, but you feel safe. You make me feel safe.” 

They hadn’t talked much after that, Josie’s lips finding Penelope’s, swallowing her words and her moans, speaking with her hands instead. 

And Josie doesn’t know, now, not anymore, if Penelope still feels safe around her, after everything they’ve been through, but she can see that when Josie lets go of her hand, her cheeks are flushed and she’s biting her lip in a way that has Josie forgetting all about the monsters they should be fighting. 

It reminds her of Paris, wandering the streets with Penelope and the way she had been so damn flustered after Josie had cleaned the chocolate off of the side of her cheek with a swipe of her thumb. Penelope had paused then, a shaky hand running through her hair as she exhaled a huge sigh. 

“Focus, Saltzman,” Penelope teases, finding her voice once more. Pedro, watches them warily but rolls his eyes in a way that would have Lizzie beaming proudly. 

“Alright, little man, show us what you got,” she prompts, because they’re approaching the sirens, hands clasped together as Pedro draws up to his full height (all four feet of him) and steps away from Penelope and Josie, speaking in a melodic language, the air around the sirens waving and undulating like water. His voice builds up louder and louder. 

The sirens freeze as he approaches them, the boys between them, their voices lost in their throats and the boys are still, swaying from the effects of the call twenty feet away from them. 

Josie watches, unsure of just how much time passes as the sirens remain frozen, listening to Pedro’s speech. One of them steps forward, at last, and replies in the same language, and a discussion erupts between them. Pedro answers calmly, only turning once to look back at the girls and Alaric. 

Josie and Penelope stand together, hands still clasped, despite the fact that Josie had already siphoned from her, had already taken what she needed. 

Finally, finally, after minutes of waiting, tension ripe in the air, Pedro turns around towards them, and behind him, the sirens walk away, vanishing into the bright midmorning light. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Kaleb explodes when he’s sure they are gone, rushing to their side in a flash, followed by MG, Raf, and Landon. Josie runs to Pedro, kneeling down in front of him and pulling him into a hug while Penelope appears by her side, ruffling his hair, a hand to his shoulder. 

“You did great,” Josie says, a smile breaking her face that has Pedro beaming. 

“They’re after Landon,” he tells her, while Penelope bites back a laugh. 

“Well, that’s as good of incentive as any to leave him on the side of the road with a sign around his neck,” she teases, looking toward the phoenix, who is sporting a split lip. Raf’s knuckles are bloody and he looks abashed, avoiding Landon’s eyes and running his hand along the back of his neck. 

“I second that suggestion,” Lizzie adds, joining them with Alaric by her side. 

“Sorry about that, Doctor S,” Kaleb apologizes quickly, “the ladies were - they -” 

“It’s alright, Kaleb. Thankfully, some of you kept your heads,” he speaks slowly, eyes traveling around the group and settling on the girls. He knows, in that moment, their bonds to each other - Josie and Penelope, Lizzie to an absent Hope - he knows how deeply the threads of their feelings ran. How proud he was of their chosen partners. 

“Anyway,” Penelope says, clearing her throat loudly. “That was some breakfast. Did they tell you anything else, buddy?” The group’s eyes turn to Pedro who shakes his head. 

“Something about roadblocks…” His voice trails off and Lizzie curses, arms clenched around her stomach. She paces, and Josie can feel the anger, desperation, heartache coming off of her in waves. 

“They’re slowing us down before we can get to Hope. That Hollow bitch is working with Malivore - that’s the only thing that explains the connection to the hobbit and these fucking monsters. We should have left you in the Shire, Frodo,” Lizzie spits the words at Landon, jabbing a finger at his chest that has Alaric stepping between the phoenix and his daughter. 

“Hey, hey! Easy! We leave no one behind, Elizabeth,” Alaric nearly yells. Lizzie’s voice is lost in her throat as she looks at her dad with narrowed eyes. She’s silent for a few moments before groaning, snatching the keys out of his hand with a “whatever” thrown over her shoulder. 

Penelope has her hand over her mouth, choking back laughter that is threatening to spill forward. Josie smacks Penelope lightly on the arm and the witch has the audacity to look slightly admonished. 

Landon just looks confused, rubbing the back of his head, and maybe they would be better off leaving him here for Dorian to come to pick up. 

“Well, come on!” Lizzie calls back to the group when she’s made it to the car, honking the horn loudly. 

“I should have been recording that for Hope,” Penelope muses as they walk back to the car, Lizzie leaning into the horn in the driver’s seat. Josie glares at her, her mouth open. 

“Lizzie and Landon fighting?” 

“Lizzie turning into the queen of rage to bring Hope home. Fighting for her,” Penelope adds, almost as an afterthought, before leading Josie to the car. 

As she gets in, Josie thinks about the people who fought for her. 

Her dad, creating a safe place for them against all odds. 

Her mom, traveling the world all her life to save them. 

Hope, braving the depths of her mind to rescue her. 

Lizzie, risking certain death to bring her back. 

And Penelope, who’d claimed to be selfish and fought so selflessly for her. But that had been a year ago and now, now she isn’t sure if Penelope has the fight left in her, anymore. 

They drive for eight hours that day, pushing further north, and if Josie spends them curled into Penelope’s body, listening to Lizzie and Pedro debating the underworld while Penelope’s hands trace over her body, fingertips along her thigh, grounding, gentle, that’s really her own business and nobody else’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, but we're back now, and you can expect more regular updates again. let us know your thoughts in the comments, pretty please (with a cherry on top)


	7. and it brings me back again

The hotel that Penelope directs Alaric to is nothing like the motel they stayed in the night previous. Penelope had been guiding them, the map in her lap and a talisman in her hand as they drove toward the Canadian border, because of course the Hollow had to cross international boundaries. Witches never made it easy and this witch, from Josie’s whispered words, seemed like the worst kind of opponent. Smart, cautious, careful. 

“Where are we?” Lizzie groans, waking up with a stretch of her arms toward the ceiling, nearly taking out poor Pedro in the process. She yawns, peering out of the window to see a sprawling cabin complex awash with light as Alaric brings the car to a stop in front of the lobby.

“Somewhere in Vermont, I think. Penelope found a hotel,” Josie says, her own eyes adjusting to the dim light as she sleepily smiles at Penelope. 

She had fallen asleep a few hours ago as they passed through New York, comforted by the tiny motions Penelope had been making on her thigh, her nails leaving white lines across her skin. They had been the only thing keeping her from throwing up all over the backseat of the car from motion sickness. 

She really should say something to Alaric about sitting in front, but as torturous as eight hours in a car was, the idea of not spending it touching Penelope (even if it was just shoulder to shoulder) was unbearable. 

“Nice, Park. This place actually looks like it isn’t infested with vermin,” Lizzie spares a glance at Landon before adding, “yet.” 

She strolls towards the reception, leaving the rest of them in her wake as Landon turns to Rafael. “Why does she hate me so much?”

“That’s for us to know and you to figure out _way_ too late,” Kaleb laughs, before following Lizzie. 

She assigns them room keys with the swift force of a benevolent dictator and god, Josie kind of hates having to rely on her sister as a matchmaker, but she also breathes a lot easier when Lizzie presses a key into her hand with a simple “Penelope, Josie, here you go.”

She definitely ignores the “you’re naming your first born after me” Lizzie hisses once Penelope has walked back outside to get their bags. 

Penelope returns a short while later, handing Josie’s bag to her, eyes moving up Josie’s body slowly before settling on her face, a lazy smile on her lips. Josie would normally shy away from such a look, but after this morning and the drive today, she wants nothing more than to sink into the dark brown pools that are Penelope’s eyes on her. 

“You and me again? _What ever is Lizzie up to?_ ” Penelope asks in faux outrage, eyebrows raised with a hand clutched to her chest. “Your sister needs to look up the word subtlety in the dictionary.” 

“Are you mad about it? Unless,” Josie trails off, a mischievous smirk on her face. “Is it Landon you want to be with? I saw the way you were looking at him today. We can swap and I can room with Raf. That would make life so much easier on Lizzie, in more ways than one,” Josie teases, glancing toward the elevator as she follows Lizzie and Alaric. The doors to the elevator car close quickly in front of them as Lizzie winks with a wave and a blown kiss in their direction. 

Josie would be upset but her sister’s motives were so terribly transparent, it was almost laughable. 

“Wouldn’t you be lonely?” Penelope challenges, the jealousy she feels coursing through her veins at the small mention of the boys making her heart pound, but her eyes are glittering, even off of the reflection from the metal door. 

Josie throws caution to the wind and steps closer, until she’s almost, almost close enough to kiss Penelope. “I’m sure I’d find some way to _entertain_ myself,” she whispers, lips near Penelope's ear, the breath warm, delighting at the way the witch inhales sharply. 

The elevator doors open with a sharp chime and Josie spins around on her heel, grabbing her bag. “Coming, Park?”

Penelope nearly drops her bag as she stumbles into the car with Josie, the air between them thick, like a humid fog. Charged. 

They ride in silence to the fifth floor - Josie is biting her lip, eyes on her feet while Penelope is doing her best to not imagine Josie in a number of compromising positions. It’s not working. 

By the time the door opens to their floor, Penelope’s heart is racing and she thinks she may need either a drink or a hot shower. Or both. 

Penelope makes a beeline for the bathroom the moment they make it in the room, placing her bag on the bed and slamming the door behind her with a deep sigh. She turns on the shower, losing herself in the warm water. 

If she thinks of Josie while she is in there, the cold tiles at her back while the water drips down her body, well, she’s only human after all, Josie’s words were flying around her mind like a song on repeat. She can feel the siphon’s lips close to hers, takes a deep breath as she feels her nerves on fire and drops the soap. It bangs loudly on the floor and Penelope can hear faint laughter from the bedroom. 

Her phone is ringing when she opens the bathroom door, clad only in a towel. The name on the caller ID brings a smile to her face and it's a different kind of smile that Josie had only seen reserved for her, so long ago. It burns to see it for someone else. 

The kind of smile that conveys trust and happiness and that Josie wishes were directed at her. 

She swallows loudly, observing Penelope’s posture as she sits on the bed, legs crossed and a laptop in her lap. 

The witch has water dripping down her chest, disappearing into the terry cloth from her wet hair, her voice ringing out in French as she greets the caller. “ _Bon matin,_ even though it's what - 4 a.m. for you, cherie?” 

Josie hurries into the bathroom, closing the door as she brushes her teeth and tries to ignore the sound of Penelope’s laughter in the other room. The call goes on far too long and Josie is contemplating the thickness of her eyebrows when she hears Penelope hang up. 

“Who was that?” She can’t help but ask, once she’s back in the room, and maybe her tone sounds harsher than intended. Maybe she throws her shorts and tank top a little too forcefully into her bag. 

Penelope’s face freezes where she had been bent over her suitcase. It’s unreadable for a moment and Josie watches the way Penelope hesitates, choosing her words carefully. She was dressed now - shorts and a t-shirt they read Salvatore Stallions and Josie tries to forget the night she had flung those very same shorts behind Penelope’s bed in an effort to undress the witch as quickly as she could and get down to more pressing matters. 

Josie’s staring, she knows she is, but Penelope like this, with her armor off and her face clean of makeup, was a vision that Josie found herself lost in time and time again so long ago. And now, the pull was just as strong. 

“A friend from Paris,” Penelope finally settles on, and the way she slides under the covers, turning the light on her side off, makes it obvious that this is all the answer Josie is getting. 

Josie’s heart plummets in her chest and she feels her lungs constrict. They had been doing so well today, hadn’t they?

“Look, Pen- I never told-” Josie begins, because they can’t keep doing this. Penelope can’t keep pushing her away and then pulling her closer whenever she needs comfort. She can’t hold her tightly during the night and barely speak to her the next day. She can’t let Josie siphon from her, can’t give her life force away, and then close up hours later. 

“Save it, Josie,” Penelope exhales to the ceiling, the expression on her face lost in the shadows created from Josie’s light. “Just because the Sirens - I mean, so much has happened-”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Josie pleads, kneeling on the bed, her hands in her lap. 

“Nothing’s changed for you,” Penelope responds, effectively ending the conversation as Josie nods once, then again, her vision swimming in front of her as she forces back tears. Penelope turns over in bed, pulling the covers high and Josie takes one final look at her before turning off the light and climbing into her side of the bed. 

She sniffles once, chewing on her lip before she closes her eyes. Sleep doesn’t come as easily as it had the previous night, even with the five-hundred thread count sheets and pillows that threatened to swallow her in softness. 

Penelope isn’t faring much better. 

Josie’s fast asleep next to her, but she can’t help but feel restless. The last twenty-four hours have been full of revelations, reaching from the Hollow and Josie chastizing Lizzie to not being affected by the sirens to Josie not being affected by the sirens, and this trip is quickly escalating beyond her control. 

She slips out of the room quietly, knows the pattern of Josie’s breathing, even and soft, well enough to be certain that she won’t wake her. She magicks on a quick outfit of jeans and a jacket before quietly closing the door behind her and making her way down the stairs. 

This time, at least, the hotel isn’t a total loss, and there's a decent bar next to the reception. 

“A double Greyhound,” she orders, and the bartender looks like he’s about to card her before she glares at him and he changes his mind. 

“Drinking alone, Park?” A voice from the end of the bar interrupts her and she turns to find Lizzie, sipping a martini, looking like she was dropped straight from Old Hollywood into a hotel bar at the Canadian border. She really should take a picture for Hope, who’d definitely appreciate this view. Who knew the blonde Saltzman wore satin negligees and a matching robe to sleep in?

“Not anymore, it seems,” Penelope says, dropping down in a stool next to Lizzie. “What’s got you up in the middle of the night, Saltzman?” She can’t resist a quick jibe, old habit. “Did Hope give you fleas before she left? Is that why you can’t sleep?” 

“She was with him until right before she- before everything, asshat,” Lizzie says through clenched teeth, the knuckles on her hands turning white. 

“Didn’t take you for the morality police, blondie.”

Lizzie sips on her drink before she sighs. “I just wanted her to be happy, Penelope. Even if that wasn’t with me.”

“She cares about you, you know,” Penelope confesses. “Every email I get from her is all, Lizzie this and Lizzie said that. It’s always been you for her.” 

“Caring about somebody doesn’t always fix everything,” Lizzie mutters, and her mind is filled with Hope pushing people away, pushing her away, and waking up to find Hope gone, missing, kidnapped, her room in tatters and a trail of blood on the mahogany floors. 

“Don’t I know it,” slips out from Penelope’s lips before she can stop herself.

Lizzie fixes her with an eagle-eyed glare and Penelope can feel the anger directed at her. “You’re being too hard on her. You don’t know what happened after you left.”

“So, tell me, Saltzman. What's the big secret that everyone seems to be tiptoeing around with Josie?” 

“After you left, she was a mess for a long time. Look. she should really be the one to tell you because it's not my story, it's hers. But she’s stronger now. I know you can see it. As much as it pains me to admit it, Satan, you just have to give her that space to tell you...when she’s ready.” 

“She had the entire Atlantic Ocean, genius. That’s space.”

“That wasn’t space to tell you things, genius,” Lizzie bites back, “that was just _space_.”

“Since when are you an expert on space, Lizzie? Or supportive of anything to do with myself and Josie? You weren’t necessarily rolling out the welcome mat a year ago.”

She’s waiting for a reply when Lizzie reaches out towards her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the ground, seconds before the stool she’d been sitting on bursts into flames. 

“What the fuck?” she barely manages as she feels the familiar pull of being siphoned from. It’s different from Josie, where her magic being taken feels exhilarating and comforting and like everything, more like an incessant nudge. Being siphoned from Lizzie feels harsher. Maybe it’s the moment, maybe it’s Lizzie’s bold strokes and lines to match Josie’s curves. It’s different, but not unwelcome. 

“Protegio,” Lizzie forces out, throwing up a barrier that barely swallows the next wave of fire being thrown at them. “Sorry, Park.”

Penelope waves her apology away, holding out her hand as she focuses on her own magic. She’s not letting herself get killed by some kind of giant troll who looks very annoyed that they’ve evaded his attack, even if that means working together with Lizzie Saltzman. 

“What the fuck? I didn’t even have a chance to have a sip of my drink,” Penelope complains. 

“We should just toss Landon to the hounds,” Lizzie complains, her breathing labored. The barrier is hard to sustain, even with both of them working together, the constant firestorm more than a little battering. 

“Agreed,” Penelope sighs. 

“What even is that thing?” 

Lizzie rolls her eyes, but answers quickly - “It’s a sutr from Norse mythology. A fire giant basically. Weren’t you paying attention in class?” 

“I had much better things to pay attention to in class. Like your sister.”

“Ew, Satan, I really didn’t need to know that.”

“You keep calling me Satan, but doesn’t that make me Pedro’s mom following today’s revelations?” 

“You wish, _Satan,”_ Lizzie answers through clenched teeth. Was now really the time to be debating nicknames?

“Water?” Penelope suggests, bored of the conversation, and Lizzie nods in agreement because she feels sweat on her brow and her arms are aching and Penelope isn’t like Hope, she isn’t an unlimited source of power. She is strong, damn stronger than Lizzie would ever admit, let alone speak into words, but even strength had its limits. 

“Worth a try.”

The water spells they blast seem to be bothering the giant at least a little, judging by the angry growls, but he remains undeterred, flames still flying in their direction, and what the fuck forest did this thing come out of? The Forest of Fangorn?

It’s getting harder to keep the protective shield up, and even the explosive spells Penelope hurls seem to affect the lobby a lot more than they do the monster, if the craters in the ground were any indication. 

Penelope sees the cracks in the barrier, and the fireballs being shot at them, bound to hit Lizzie full-on, and she grabs her arms, tugging her out of the line of fire, not because she cares, but because Hope and Josie would be really mad if she let Lizzie die. 

They tumble to the floor and it takes Penelope a moment to realize that the barrier did crumble, they’re definitely screwed, and her right arm feels like it’s on fucking fire. 

“Heroics don’t look good on you, but thanks,” Lizzie breathes, the spot where she had been standing cratered out with ash and smoke rising. 

Lizzie mutters several spells next to her and the pain recedes a bit, but she’s dizzy and her vision is definitely flickering. This isn’t going to end well. “Get out of here, Saltzman. Get help.”

“Josie would kill me,” Lizzie objects, attempting another barrier, watching it shatter under the next spell. “But you’re right, we need to get away from here.”

It’s not as easy as it sounds, especially because Penelope has no idea how to get off the ground. 

“Get away from them,” a firm voice orders, and fuck, this is definitely a different Josie, appearing almost out of smoke in a tiny black robe that Penelope is pretty sure is her own, and is really much too short on Josie. Even now, even in the middle of a monster attack, Josie is resplendent. Gorgeous, her hair curling in the light and her jaw set. 

There are flames emanating from her hands, as she steps in front of them, the room tinged red as she blasts an inferno at the giant, a tornado of fire and brimstone. Fighting fire with fire was smart, and such a Josie move. 

He grunts angrily as her second hit has him falling to his knees. The third one has him doubling over in pain but Josie remains undeterred, attacking and attacking, fire flying around her, turning the flames so that his own attacks rush back towards him like a rip current.

“Told you she was different,” Lizzie comments. 

Penelope is still having a little trouble breathing, but she can definitely muster up the strength to roll her eyes at Lizzie. 

“I just saved you from being turned to ashes, it’s not the time to be so damn arrogant.”

Lizzie’s not wrong though. Penelope has always known everything Josie could be, splendid, magnificent, strong, has always known that the power Josie could harness is incredible beyond belief, proven by the ground glowing red under her, but she’d never been sure that Josie would trust herself to reach for her own strength, her own power. 

But now, it seems she’s embraced that, and Penelope watches as the monster crumbles to ashes, as Josie stabs him with flame after flame of blinding white light, gorgeously illuminating the room. She was Theia, goddess of light, her divinity wrapped around her in a shroud of black. Her lips curl at the corners, a shade of rose, and she was enjoying this far too much. 

Penelope’s arm is burning with pain, but all she can focus on is Josie, tiny in comparison to the giant, and yet, so, very, very powerful, the monster crumbling in front of her as she throws her arms forward, thrusting towards him with walls of flame, even as he’s a shadow of his former self, his wails filling the bar. 

He’s gone, burnt to ashes, turned to dust, when Josie spins around, rushing towards them and falling to her knees on the ground next to them. Her eyes are flashing black, so different from the warm brown Penelope is used to, and her face is covered with soot and sweat. 

“Are you okay? Are you both okay?” she asks, inhaling sharply several times, and Penelope watches the way her eyes turn back to brown, and alright, she might have missed out on a development or two. 

But before Penelope can answer, she feels a stab of pain rush through her hand, up her arm, and down into her chest, and the world dissolves to darkness around her as she falls and falls and falls. Josie’s voice echoes in her ears, but it's faint and she can almost make out her name, but she’s too far gone to answer back. 

The last thing she remembers are Josie’s eyes, swallowing the light like a supernova, a black hole, and her vision clouds over into mist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, it's not monday, but we're apparently overachievers now, so here's your new chapters. have a great week, stay healthy and let us know your thoughts in the comments, pretty please!


	8. red wine, teeth stain (it's been a long day)

Josie sees Penelope’s face change, sees the consciousness eke out of her body as it happens and she catches her before she face-plants into the ground, hands and arms grabbing and holding on tightly. 

“Penelope? Penelope!” Josie’s voice is panicked and Lizzie can’t help but feel just a touch guilty. “What happened to her?! Lizzie, tell me what happened to her?!” Josie glares at her sister and it must be a trick of the light because her irises, always so, so brown are flashing black and Lizzie gulps slowly as Josie’s screams turn frantic, as the air around them crackles, electricity and magic flowing through the room. 

They’re about three minutes away from the next fucking firestorm, Lizzie estimates, reaching out for Josie’s arm. “She took a fireball for me,” she says, and her voice is slow and measured, attempting to transfer calm to her sister. 

“But I think she’s just unconscious.”

“She would never take a fireball for you.” 

“Shocking, yes, but she definitely did. Remind me to _not_ thank her for it again later.” 

Josie’s eyes flicker, brown and black, and black and brown, before she inhales sharply. Through the mist of her mind, she can hear Lizzie’s voice, hear her reassurances, and she watches her sister pull Penelope’s jacket down, revealing what is definitely a bad burn, her flesh turned red. 

Lizzie whispers healing spells and the skin under her hand heals, and Josie tries, tries, tries to breathe, because Penelope is here, and alive, in Josie’s arms, and she’s going to be fine. 

Josie reaches out a shaky hand to Penelope’s cheek and it's clammy and comes away wet with sweat and what the hell had she been thinking to jump in front of a fireball?

“I thought Jade taught you healing magic,” Lizzie teases, to lighten the mood but Josie nearly growls at her because she and Jade had never exactly _talked_ about things. They were definitely more into _nonverbal_ communication. 

“Really, Lizzie? Now’s the time you bring that up? I swear to god —”

“Relax, _Hulk_. When you weren’t trading saliva with the vamp, she was actually super helpful in teaching me basic first aid.” 

Lizzie didn’t add that she did it because Hope always had a habit of getting herself into difficult situations and that even though she was a tribrid and could heal on her own, Alaric, Josie, and herself were mortal and therefore vulnerable, very vulnerable. 

“And then I looked up some healing spells that could help things out and healing burns was one of the first that I learned. Satan, you will be happy to know, is going to be fine.” 

Josie feels her heart almost beating out of her chest, magic and anger and fight crawling inside of her, and the desire to set the world on fire, to blow it up for what it did to Penelope is almost unbearable.

“Do you need to like, take a walk or something?” Lizzie asks quietly, her hand underneath Josie’s chin to bring her twin’s eyes level with her own. Josie’s irises are back to brown, but her hands are trembling, even as she shakes her head. 

“Just help her, please,” she requests.

“She’s fine,” Lizzie promises, “she’ll be fine. She just needs to wake the fuck up.”

Penelope’s world returns to color slowly, the voices of the twins seeping in first, distantly, ringing through the fog. She sits up slowly, finds herself immediately pulled into a hug by Josie. 

She inhales a great gulping breath, still trying to find her footing, the smell of Josie so close more than a little distracting. Lizzie clears her throat and Josie pulls away, a blush appearing on her face.

“Welcome back to reality, Satan. Thought it was time for a nap?”

Penelope looks about ready to jump Lizzie, her fists clenching, but as she tries to sit up further, she closes her eyes, exhaling sharply. 

“Hey, hey, no sudden movements!” Josie exclaims, immediately jumping back into protective mode. 

“If she wasn’t so damn _ungrateful —_” Penelope begins, glaring daggers at Lizzie. 

“Don’t make me say thank you again, Hades.” 

Penelope seems to contemplate this for a moment before she nods. “Let’s never speak of this again.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Josie asks again quietly, pulling Penelope to her feet but her tone changes the instant the words are out of her mouth — “and what the fuck were you both doing down here?” 

“We couldn’t sleep,” they chorus together, glaring at each other. 

Well, temporary peace shattered, Josie thinks, her heart racing and her magic thrumming beneath her still, making her fingers tingle. She needed to run, she needed to breathe, she needed to get out of here because Lizzie and Penelope had almost been killed and she feels like she is walking on a razor’s edge and the last time this happened —

A flash of silver passes by the side of her head, embedding itself in the bar behind them and the trio duck, shards of glass and ice shattering all around them like a thousand tiny knives as the bottles behind the bar explode one after the other. 

Three heads whip around in unison. What looks like a woman, bundled in furs with long, dark, wet black hair stands in the doorway of the bar, the scent of fish wafting all around her as she inhales sharply, her scream shattering the chandeliers hanging above their heads, sending a fresh wave of glass raining down upon them. All three throw their hands over their heads to brace for the impact that never comes as Penelope twists her hands and sends the glass towards the wall. 

Josie exhales and Penelope glances over, scrambling behind a stool. She can’t help herself when she looks at Josie, because her cheeks are flushed and Penelope needs to see if the darkness that she saw lurking in Josie’s chocolate brown eyes is still there but her breath swirls out of her lips like smoke and now is not the time to be distracted by gorgeous exes. 

“Ice,” Penelope breathes, her hand finding its way to Josie’s. “Fire and ice, how poetic of Malivore.” 

“How lovely,” Lizzie snaps. “Any ideas to stop us all from being frozen to death? Or do you want to write a poem instead?”

“What are these?” Josie questions, ducking under the next shard. 

“So, I really was the _only_ one who paid any attention in magical creatures, right?” Lizzie comments, her glare somehow icier than the shard embedded in the wood above her head. 

Josie is absolutely not going to get distracted, while fighting, by thinking about - it’s not her fault that that had been one of two classes they’d shared, back then, when everything had been different. 

“Spare us the lecture, Saltzman, and just tell us what it is and how to defeat it?” 

“It’s a qalupalik,” Lizzie informs them.

At the blank look on Josie and Penelope’s faces, Lizzie nearly rolls her eyes, but yet another icicle leveled at her head from the monster in the doorway has her spurring into action. “We just need to kill it, but it has impenetrable skin. Like ice. Are we near a lake?” 

“Yeah, we passed one while you were drooling on yourself earlier,” Penelope mumbles under her breath but plasters on a fake smile. “Okay, we need to go for its weaknesses, right? Sensitive spots,” Penelope sighs, as Josie looks around, considering their options. “Eyes, arteries, bludgeoning maybe.”

Josie has an idea, but the magic still inside of her is tinged with the darkness and she can feel it building, like a volcano nearly ready to erupt and she looks around to meet Penelope’s eyes. “Can I siphon from you?”

“Didn’t you just set half the world aflame with the magic from the ground?” Penelope asks her, her actions betraying her words as she holds out her hands. 

“That was dark magic,” Josie explains, reaching out to take Penelope’s hand in her own as the trio stand, Lizzie behind them. 

“And since when have you been using that?”

Lizzie clears her throat. “Can you _please_ have couple’s therapy later? Preferably when none of us are about to get an icicle through the heart from the yeti?” 

“Not a yeti, Liz, as you so studiously pointed out.” 

Josie hates to admit it, but she might have a point there because everything that happened while she was dark, everything that she stuffed down and into the neat little boxes in her mind threatens to overflow and she can’t, she can’t lose the tenuous thread of control that she has right now. 

Instead, she focuses on the rush of Penelope’s magic through her body, like the first rumble of an earthquake, her senses awakening and her soul on fire. She can feel it thrumming through her ribcage and around her heart, gold sparks dancing along her fingertips to chase away the frost. It’s euphoric and ethereal and Penelope’s magic within her has its own taste and smell, like honeysuckle and lavender and Josie breathes in deeply. 

She waits and waits for the monster to attack again, whispering the incantation with barely a breath, catching one of the shards and suspending it in the air before sending it ricocheting back towards the monster, her mind blank but for the memories of the touch of Penelope’s hand, the warmth from her skin, the beat her heart to aim just, just right. This is the best shot they have.

It sails through the air, driving the monster backward and off its feet as the spear embeds itself in the creature’s eye. With a crack of glass, the monster shatters and breaks, vanishing into nothingness, called back to Malivore to deliver yet another black banner of defeat. 

“Do you think we’ll have any more visitors tonight?” Lizzie asks, reaching over the bar to grab a bottle of gin and taking a large swig. 

Her words are lost to the pair though, as Penelope stands next to Josie, brushing glass out of her hair. 

“Quick thinking on your feet, Saltzman,” she admits, swallowing as she glances down at Josie’s legs before her eyes find Josie’s once more. “On both accounts.”

Lizzie looks between them, rolling her eyes before taking another drink. “Alright, how about I tell Dad what happened and we reconvene in the morning? I cannot believe that they all slept through this. Typical boys!”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds like a plan, Liz,” Josie agrees, her eyes still locked with Penelope. 

The elevator is, by some miracle, still intact, and they ride upstairs with Lizzie, who disappears to wake up Alaric. 

Josie follows Penelope to their room, and the silence lingers until the door is closed behind them. 

“Spill,” Penelope demands, as soon as it falls shut. She crosses her arms over her jacket as Josie perches herself on the edge of the bed. 

“What?” Josie stutters. She feels off guard, caught out, and she looks to the bathroom for a moment as if plotting her escape but settles her hands into her lap. 

“When did you turn into the wicked witch of the west?”

“It’s been a long year,” she says, and Penelope rolls her eyes, more than a little annoyed. Her nails dig into her palms and she wants to walk over to Josie and shake her, but she can’t stand to be that close to Josie. Not now, not when she’s vibrating with anger and Josie looks terrified, the wrinkle between her eyes as deep as a chasm, a surefire sign of her discomfort. 

“You siphoned from the fucking _ground_ and set the lobby on fire, Josie. A long year doesn’t really cover that.”

“The giant troll caused most of the fire,” Josie deflects. 

Penelope throws up her hands. “I won’t force you to talk to me.” She takes a few steps, past the bed before she hears Josie’s voice. 

“You couldn’t even tell me who you were on the phone with!” Josie argues back. The magic is still coursing through her veins, and talking about the last year feels suddenly, painfully difficult. Josie stands up, her anger palpable and Penelope has to remind herself to keep her gaze on Josie’s eyes because the robe is falling open and - 

Penelope glares at her. “That’s absolutely not the same thing! But fine, if that’s how you want to play it. Let’s talk about Jade then.”

Josie feels her cheeks flushing and curses just how easily she breaks under Penelope’s glare. “How even — ?”

“Lizzie is loud. Even around the mostly unconscious.”

“Not you,” Josie bites out. “Is that what you want to hear, Penelope? I tried to move on and I couldn’t because _she wasn't you_. No one was. Landon, Jade. I couldn’t move on from you.”

“Landon?” Penelope questions. “You dated Landon?”

“Yes,” Josie confirms, clenching her jaw.

“What is with that bird?! You’re way out of his league. And no shit, he wasn’t me.”

“Thank you, Penelope,” Josie snaps, pacing around the room, her back turned away from Penelope and her shoulders hunched before whirling back around. “You’re ever so helpful.”

She’s trying to veil the hurt in her voice, but something must shimmer through because Penelope’s expression softens. “Simone is just a friend. She’s taking care of my plants.”

“You could have told me that before.” Josie feels lighter, exhaling a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. 

“I didn’t really want to,” Penelope sighs, and she looks tired, hurt, and Josie is all too aware suddenly that she’s given Penelope so little reason to trust her. They each carry the scars of this past year in different ways, Josie sees now. 

Her expression softens and she steps closer to Penelope, her hand reaching out, lingering in the air for a moment before brushing a stray lock of hair behind Penelope’s ear. “I didn’t like it when you got hurt,” she confesses. 

And Penelope really wants to say something snarky, because that much had been utterly obvious, but she feels totally out of breath, Josie intoxicatingly close. She grabs at Josie’s hips, pulling her closer, gripping the soft satin beneath her fingers. Feels Josie’s warmth radiating out of her. 

“I didn’t like it when I got hurt either,” Penelope says slowly, eyes dancing across Josie’s face, constellations and galaxies exploding in her gaze. “But Lizz —”

“I really don’t want to talk about my sister right now,” Josie breathes, her hand cupping Penelope’s cheek as their eyes meet. Josie feels like she’s waiting for a collision, like she's made of scar tissue and can’t for the life of her remember what it felt like to have Penelope’s soft skin beneath her fingers until this moment. Tracing them lower, they cup Penelope’s jaw, skimming over her pulse point. The steady beat grounds Josie and she feels herself take a deep breath. 

“Josie,” Penelope begins, her voice raw from tonight, from the fight, from the monster attacks, from Josie. 

Just as she had done in Paris, which now feels like a lifetime ago, Josie closes the distance, can’t bear to be apart from Penelope for a second longer, pulling her towards her with her hand cupping her jaw, her other arm winding around Penelope’s shoulders because if she didn’t feel Penelope against her, warm and safe and alive, in the next few seconds, she was sure she would break. 

Penelope sighs into the kiss, her heart racing underneath Josie’s fingers as she feels her magic rebounding back to her, tastes Josie’s lips, and feels her soul, normally a wreckage of rust and carbon, swell and burst, whole again under Josie’s touch. 

Josie moans into the kiss and Penelope wants to tear the robe off of her, wants to drag her lips and her teeth down Josie’s neck, over her collarbones and across her shoulders. But as soon as they break to breathe, she settles her forehead against Josie’s, a hand on her chest. 

“Can we — can we go to bed, Jo?” It lacks the usual innuendo and Josie understands Penelope’s request, understands the witch down to her bones, and the magic rushing through her veins. 

Josie’s eyes meet hers, and her hands keep tracing over Penelope’s jaw, as she nods, leaning down to press one last kiss against Penelope’s lips, lingering just for a second, before she pulls away. Tonight has been too much, too raw, a million emotions swirling around as fire and ice had met and scars had been torn open, exposed. 

Penelope’s hands slide over Josie’s hips again, grabbing at the soft skin. “This is my robe,” she remarks. 

“Do you want it back, Park?” Josie questions, a sudden grin on her face, the heavy weight on her shoulders lifting, just a bit. 

And fuck, tonight has been horrible, but she can’t help the smile that crosses her face as she tugs lightly on the bands of the robe, “definitely, Saltzman.”

Josie twirls, letting the robe fall open, and tossing it towards Penelope, leaving Josie in the tiniest shorts and a tank as she climbs into bed. Penelope joins her, after turning her clothes back into the chemise she’d been wearing before, throwing the robe over an armchair. 

Penelope finds Josie in the middle of the bed, but she can’t bring herself to argue about proper bed-sharing etiquette, because she turns her back, wordlessly pulls Josie to her in the dark, Josie’s arms wrapping around Penelope’s stomach, their legs intertwining. Josie slots her head behind Penelope’s neck, kissing the warm skin there, feeling Penelope’s pulse beating, steady and stable, alive, her lips lingering even as she feels Penelope drift to sleep beside her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not quite monday, but some weeks are like that... we hope you enjoyed this, darlings, and let us know your thoughts in the comment, pretty please.


	9. lift me up over the wall

Penelope is still asleep when she wakes up, dark hair spilling out over the pillow, and Josie takes a minute to just watch her, so, so breathtakingly gorgeous as the sunlight drifts across her face. Penelope rolls over, towards the edge of the bed, the strap of her chemise falling to reveal dark freckles. Spots that Josie had spent days, months, weeks memorizing. 

Josie’s lips ached to tell Penelope so many things. She wanted to tell Penelope that she loved her. Remind her with her lips ghosting over her cheeks. Brush them over her eyelids and paint the words with her hands, promising that she would never forget the past, that she couldn’t, but show her how desperately she wanted to write the future with her. 

She remembers the first time she woke up next to Penelope, back when they’d just started dating. Josie had fallen asleep while they were watching a movie and she’d shot up the next morning, frantic because she hadn’t let Lizzie know where she was. Penelope had silenced her with a soft smile and a kiss to the cheek, promising that she’d texted Lizzie and everything was fine. 

Before she’d found out about the Merge, back in those first few months, Penelope had been different about Lizzie. Less angry. They had existed in each other’s orbits with the same barbed taunts, but the bite was never there. It was always a game, with Lizzie and Penelope — who could love Josie more. Penelope thought she had won one day, but Lizzie Saltzman was nothing if not competitive, and then Josie wound up choosing her time and time again and after failed study dates and forgotten dinners, the winner was made clear.

Josie gets it now, sees it all through Penelope’s eyes, that her voice was never there, her wants were never addressed with Lizzie and all she needed to do was speak up, speak out, and reach out and grab what she wanted. Well, she wanted Penelope. That much was apparent. She wanted nights wrapped in her arms and mornings when she couldn’t keep her hands off of her. She wanted hard times that tested them, she wanted easy times where they could breathe. She wanted it all. 

The Merge. Josie swallows. She needs to tell Penelope. Preferably before they find Hope, because she and Hope have already debated this issue twice over. And while the boys and Lizzie seem perfectly happy to leave the revelations about last year to Josie, she knows Hope doesn’t agree. Hope wanted to tell Penelope after it happened, but Josie had sworn her to secrecy, promising she would tell her. Promising she was going to write Penelope. Boxes of unsent letters sat under Josie’s bed, all addressed to Penelope with words she couldn't say out loud. 

And she’s right. Josie knows that she needs to tell Penelope that the Merge no longer looms over them, that Josie won and Lizzie lived anyway, saved by Hope’s determination. 

But in the early light of the morning, Josie can admit this small truth to herself, shattering any hope of a future: if she tells Penelope that the Merge is no more, and Penelope still walks away, if she doesn’t walk away from an ancient curse and a death threat, but from _Josie_ , she doesn’t know how she would survive it. 

She barely survived it the first time and knowing how her heart beat, no, _ached_ for Penelope now, she wouldn’t be able to stomach the pain again. 

And then there’s the fact that Josie turned dark, set half the school on fire, and nearly locked herself in her own mind. She has no idea how even to approach any of that. It’s a minefield, it's her minefield, and Josie never, ever wants Penelope to be collateral damage in a war of attrition against herself. 

There’s a knock on the door and her Dad requesting that they come to breakfast, his voice soft but firm, and Penelope shifts, sleepily smiling up at her as she opens her eyes. 

“Hey you,” she says, grabbing Josie’s hand as it lays on the bed. 

“Hey yourself, sleepyhead. Can you be ready in fifteen?” 

“Are you going to distract me again the way you did in Paris?” Penelope asks hopefully, and her voice is raspy from sleep and Josie feels her heart race at the very mention of their Parisian mornings.

“I don’t think we have time for that, sadly,” Josie says, but she's smiling just the same as she leans over to give Penelope a soft kiss. “Fifteen minutes.” 

“You’re lucky I’ve been perfecting some good makeup spells,” the witch groans as she sits up. 

“Where was that when we were late for our flight?” Josie asks, her jaw dropping. 

“Must have slipped my mind,” Penelope smirks, ducking quickly as Josie throws a pillow her way.

* * *

The lobby looks impeccable when they come down and Lizzie grins at them. “I do know good repair spells.”

She watches Penelope openly stare at Landon while they’re getting food from the buffet. “Stop it,” she hisses. 

Penelope raises her hands, smirking, very obviously having way too much fun. “I’m just trying to figure out the appeal of the half-pound hobbit.” She looks back at him, at the table, arguing about something with Raf and shakes her head. “How was the sex?”

Josie kinds of wants to kiss her smirking, pretty, red lips just to shut her up. “I didn’t sleep with him,” she replies, reaching past Penelope for a waffle. “Stop thinking about me naked.”

“You’re evil,” Penelope breathes into her ear, sinking down in the seat next to Josie a full three minutes later, her hand landing on Josie’s knee. And she shouldn’t have worn a skirt, because Penelope’s fingers on her naked skin are definitely distracting and she nearly drops strawberries into her lap as Penelope’s hand moves higher up her thigh. 

“Don’t make me put this whipped cream all over your face because, trust me, I will,” Josie breathes, her voice raspy and low as she looks at Penelope under heavy-lidded eyes. 

“And have an excuse to shower with you? Or even better,” Penelope replies, swiping a finger through Josie’s whipped cream and licking it off, her eyes firmly on Josie’s as her tongue extends from her mouth, “you could lick it off of me.”

Josie drops her knife and fork, the metal clattering to the ground as Lizzie stomps over, her boots echoing loudly on the stone floors. 

“Can you tone down the fuck-me eyes, Jo? It's not even nine am and I haven’t eaten yet!” 

“Speaking of eating —” Penelope begins before Josie glares daggers at her. 

“I can turn that lob into a bob,” she threatens, and Penelope mimes zipping her mouth shut, an entirely too devilish glint in her eyes. 

* * *

They pile into the car half an hour later, breakfast finished and their suitcases thrown into the SUV, and Lizzie recounts the monster attacks for the boys who groan at the failed chance for heroics. Pedro says nothing, totally immersed in his Switch as he shows Penelope the rare fossil he found in Animal Crossing. 

By lunchtime, they’ve achieved nothing. They’ve crossed the Canadian border (thank god for cloaking spells), but they’ve just been driving around in circles, and the three location spells Lizzie and Penelope have attempted have brought them no closer to success. 

“They must be masking her better,” Penelope sighs, running her hands through her hair, biting on her lower lip, obviously exasperated and still, so beautiful. Not that Josie was watching Penelope. Or staring at Penelope for the past ten minutes while she grumbled and cursed under her breath. 

“We’re wasting time,” Lizzie sighs, pushing a half-eaten burger around on her plate when they’ve stopped for lunch. “We need to think of something else.”

“We can always astral project?” Josie offers quietly as Penelope snatches a pickle off of her plate, her free hand playing with the hem of Josie’s skirt absently. Why the diner they stopped in gave her a side of pickles with a harvest salad, she wasn’t sure. 

“I started writing Freya after everything happened with Hope and she sent me some copies of her grimoire as a thank you, I think,” Josie sounds so unsure of herself, and her magic, which she shouldn’t ever be, if Penelope is being honest with herself. Josie wore her magic like a second skin, as true to her as breathing. And she looked beautiful while doing it, which was absolutely a turn on for Penelope.

Lizzie’s gaze turns on her, questioning, pleading.”Can you do it?”

“I’ll anchor you,” slips out of Penelope’s mouth before she can stop herself, because she can’t stand to see Josie so unsure, so wavering about the fact just how brilliant, how powerful she is. She inhales deeply, because they still haven’t talked about anything and offering to be Josie’s tie to this plane is definitely an _intimate_ suggestion. 

“If you want me to,” she adds, cheeks reddening “or Lizzie can do it.”

Lizzie looks between them, rolls her eyes and goes back to her burger, apparently with renewed appetite now that they have a semblance of a plan. 

Josie’s gaze focuses on Penelope and the words from this morning threaten to tumble forward but they have too much to do before Josie can even begin to unpack everything and she doesn’t even know if Penelope will even want to stay after this. 

“I’d — it would be good if you did it, I think,” she says slowly. 

Alaric, eternally unhelpful, is not at all happy with their plan, but also doesn’t have a better one to offer. 

* * *

They drive towards the Atlantic Coast. “There’s less interference,” Josie explains, trying her best to recall every single note Freya had scribbled in the margins. 

Two hours later, she sits down on the sand, a blanket underneath her that they found in the back of the SUV on an abandoned beachhead, the waves crashing all around them. 

Alaric and the boys stand guard - Alaric with his trusty crossbow and the rest armed with the gifts that they carried in their bodies. Landon looks out of his depth and Lizzie murmurs something about ropes and an abandoned pigeon and says nothing else. Lizzie stands awkwardly near Josie, biting her lip ragged and clearly she was just as merciless on her fingernails because judging by the marks they left on her arms as she gripped herself against the wind, she didn’t have much of those left. 

Penelope is next to her, as she has been for the last few hours, a gentle, guarding presence, and Josie is so, so grateful that she is here, because her first time astral projecting probably shouldn’t be happening on a beach in the middle of nowhere, but every hour they spent chasing their tails was more time for something bad to happen to Hope. 

“It’s nice here,” Penelope remarks, if only to get a smile out of Josie.

“Paris was nice,” Josie replies, a wistful look on her face because yeah, Paris was nice. 

“Paris was nice,” Penelope confirms, and there’s a hint of a smile on her face. The kind of smile that makes Josie want to be reckless, or brave, or maybe both. 

“We should talk,” she says, “when all of this is over,” and busies herself with lighting the candles around them, a little too nervous, a little too tense to quite meet Penelope’s eyes. Her hands are shaking in her lap and she fiddles with the sleeve of her sweater as Penelope watches her. 

“We should,” Penelope says, as if this was a conversation about the weather and not something that could turn her world (and Josie’s) upside down and inside out, placing sage on the ground between them and looking around. 

“I think we’re good to go. Are you ready?”

She holds out her hand towards Josie, and Josie reaches out, intertwines their fingers and breathing is suddenly a little easier. 

“Take care, yeah?” Penelope says, and a hundred unspoken words linger between them. _Please come back to me_ , she wants to say, or maybe something easier like _stay safe_. Or something totally foolish and ridiculous like _you’re never leaving my side after this._

_(I love you_ hangs in the air. _)_

“I’ll try,” Josie smiles, and begins chanting, the words flowing from her lips like a song. 

There’s the light pull of the siphoning first, grounding and fiery, and she feels her heart burst into flames, and if this is damnation, she would gladly spend it with by Josie’s side, and then it turns into something else entirely, her soul tied to Josie’s, connected even as Josie is pulling away, leaving this plane for someplace else.

Penelope is her tether now, the one person tying Josie to this Earth, and she feels the rush of Josie’s power as she projects herself away. 

She knows her role here, knows that Josie, searching for a masked and veiled Hope, looking for someone who should not be found, is relying on her to keep their connection strong, to be a stable place for her to return to. 

She breathes the sea air and she smells croissants. It’s a trick of her mind, she’s sure, but she’s pulled back to that street, to Josie’s touch when she had a bit of chocolate on her lip and she smiles into the memory. 

She focuses on that, on all the happy moments they’ve shared together, and hopes, hopes, hopes, that she is strong enough, that they’re strong enough, that the connection between their souls is stable enough, that she can pull Josie back. 

Around them, she can distantly hear Lizzie and Kaleb discussing something, the roar of the waves, and Alaric and Landon in some kind of fruitless brainstorming session. But all she can focus on is Josie, her hand still in Penelope’s, warm and vibrant, but her eyes closed.

The minutes pass and Penelope wants to tug, and pull, wants Josie back, safe and sound, and knows that she needs to wait. Knows that they agreed to wait, to give Josie as good a chance at pulling this off as possible.

And yet, with every passing minute, every second feels more unbearable. Her soul feels torn in two as Josie sits motionless in front of her, her chest rising and falling. 

She should have told Josie she loved her, she thinks, watching her, should have told her over and over again, as many times as necessary. Josie’s hand feels cold in hers now, and Penelope tries her best to keep thinking about Paris, about Josie’s laughter, joyful and free, and the way she’d pulled Penelope closer and kissed her in the street. Tries not to think about just how reckless they’re being. 

She thinks about her magic, about how Josie once told her that it had a smell associated with it. Spiced chai and cinnamon. She thinks about pushing her magic into Josie with as much love and care that she can, thinks about how she would give and give and give of herself, until the very last drop of her power, if it meant that Josie was safe in her arms, finally, again. 

“She’s been gone for too long, Satan,” Lizzie’s voice breaks the swirling vortex of silence around her. 

“You told me to trust her last night, Lizzie,” Penelope replies, and the sounds of her own voice sounds foreign, shockingly calm. This might be the first conversation that they have ever had that isn’t laced with malice and threats, but Penelope really has other things to worry about than antagonizing her future sister-in-law. _Whoa, slow down there. Josie needs to come back first,_ Penelope tells herself, even as the thought rings true through her mind. 

Which didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. The idea slotted into place in her mind, like a puzzle piece that fit perfectly, and it solidified, taking shape with each breath. 

“So that’s what I’m doing — trusting her.” 

Another minute passes, and there’s still nothing, and Penelope begins wondering if Lizzie might be right, but now is not the time for self-doubt, so she stays focused on Josie. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Josie opens her eyes, gasping for air and Penelope can feel her hands instantly clam up and she pulls the siphon into her lap to grab her, hold her, kiss her forehead because she’s _back_. Safe, unharmed, whole. 

“Lizzie,” Josie breathes and her voice is raw and unused because she was gone for over an hour, and it really shouldn’t shoot through Penelope’s core the way it does, but she can’t think about that now because she’s back. She rises to her feet, nearly stumbling over to Lizzie who was on her way to her side and they clutch each other’s arms, tears on Josie’s face and Lizzie’s eyes sparkling with those she refuses to shed. 

“Lizzie, I found her.”


	10. you fall like water though my hands

Hope thinks about Lizzie. 

Well, she thinks about a lot of things. She has the time, after all. But everything starts and ends with Lizzie. 

There’s a spell on this place that she can’t break, suppressing her magic, suppressing her powers, suppressing everything that makes her Hope Mikaelson.

More importantly than that, there was a symbol on the walls when she was dragged in here that's keeping her up at night, the memory of the mark lingering in her mind like a bad dream. 

An escape attempt isn't worth it before she knows more, because Hope Mikaelson will never, never let anyone else be the host for the Hollow again, and that means she needs to figure out exactly what the fuck is going on here. 

Because so far, this has been a very average kidnapping. If she could give it a grade it would be a solid B. Maybe a B+. There had been the usual kidnaping tropes - drugging, the black bag over her head, the dragging to a vehicle. 

And she would be fighting like hell to get herself out of here, but the symbol of the Hollow has left her frozen in place, because there are bigger things at play here. 

She remembers the last time she saw the symbol, years and years and years ago, on the day her father had died. They had been so certain that the Hollow had died with him, and now, alone and locked up, she hopes that his sacrifice, the trade he had made, his life for hers, hadn’t been in vain. 

But the Hollow is only a spirit, for now, not yet strong enough to possess a body. Because something else was missing. Hope is almost certain of that. Because she would have sensed it, right? She would have sensed her. She would have sensed the ripple effect through the magical world if a witch as powerful as that came back to life. Hope would have known. She should have known. 

Ever since her creation, in the stories whispered about her, the Hollow has been a witch filled with evil, trying to possess and murder. She’d gone after Hope for the first time when she was just five years old, and it had taken her entire family to protect her. Even then, in the end, the Hollow had overcome and had possessed Hope. She had been freed when the twins had siphoned the Hollow out of her. But it had needed somewhere to go and Klaus had died so that Hope could live. 

Now though, her symbols are back with the eerie blue which Hope’s first nightmares were made of. And that can only be an omen for trouble. 

Once again, Hope is certain that the Hollow needs a body to inhabit. And not just any body - her body. And that means that even if she makes a break for it, the Hollow will keep looking. And Hope has some idea about where the Hollow might look next. 

Her Uncle Kol, an original vampire. Her Aunt Rebekah, her immortal body just as powerful as her uncle’s.Or maybe her Aunt Freya, the witch who has survived for an entire millennium.Hope will never let any more of her family die for her. Not this time. 

Besides, backup will come. It has to come, right? Lizzie wouldn’t - Hope pauses because _Lizzie._

The Hollow would come for Lizzie too because Hope’s weaknesses have always been her family and those she loves. Lizzie is strong though. The power she can harness to reach and to take and siphon and destroy spirits and demons and monsters. 

_Lizzie._

Lizzie, who’s been occupying her thoughts like no one else. Hope misses her. She misses her like there is a Lizzie-shaped hole in her heart. Misses her sharp smile and cutting words, her laughter, her eyes. _God, her eyes._ Hope misses the way Lizzie can disarm her with just a look or smirk that seemed only reserved for her. The way she can light up a room with her presence.

She misses Lizzie. Maybe not in an entirely _friendly_ platonic way. That had become quite apparent even before Hope had been kidnapped, and it may have been part of her reason for breaking up with Landon. Not that he knows that. Not that it matters much. Lizzie or not, she and Landon would have ended eventually. Some first loves last, but theirs was never going to be one of them. It wasn’t epic, despite what she had thought before. And with Hope kind of, maybe, falling for Lizzie a little bit, that just sped up their inevitable ending. 

She’s ripped out of her reverie when a figure appears in the room, fading in and out for a moment, as Hope gets to her feet, attempting to see in the dim light. She takes a step forward but she’s jerked back with the shackles at her ankles. The ones on her wrists clang in her frustration because someone was definitely trying to contact her. 

“Josie?” she questions when she recognizes dark hair and dark eyes. 

There’s another flicker before Josie is standing firmly in front of her, her hands clenched at her waist and yep, definitely Josie.“Hope?”

“Jo,” the breathless way that Hope says it, with so much reverence, gives Josie pause before she smiles. Hope tries to step forward again but is once more jerked backward. She groans but keeps her voice low as not to alert anyone who could be posted outside her door. 

“Finally,” Josie breathes out. It had worked. The astral projection had _actually_ worked.

“There’s a pretty good masking spell on this place, by the way.” Josie looks around, notes the blood on the wall that she had seen in the dream. Notes the massive chains on Hope’s wrists and ankles. Notes the frown on Hope’s face because maybe she wasn’t the savior she wanted (she wasn’t Lizzie), she was the savior she was going to get. Or something close to it. 

Finding Hope and saving Hope were two entirely different things. 

“What are you doing here?” Hope questions, her heart hammering in her ears because she was dreaming. She has to be dreaming. Had they drugged her in her meal this morning? 

It had been nearly a week of radio silence and all of a sudden, Josie was astral projecting into her cell as if it was just any normal day of the week. As if Hope hadn’t been taken, her room ransacked in her struggle. 

“We’re trying to figure out where you are. We - Lizzie - we had a dream about you and saw the symbol of the Hollow on the walls,” Josie says, “but we can’t get close enough to you to pinpoint your location. Any hints you’ve gathered? Any clues so we can look in the right spot?” Josie’s eyes dance again around the room before they settle on Hope and she smiles despite herself. 

“I’m close to the sea - there was a boat trip, so I’m thinking an island. And I know you can’t smell it, but I swear this entire place reeks of fish and salt. And there’s definitely some connection to the Hollow. The symbol is outside, too. So, try finding places of historical relevance to her. And a cave or cavern of some kind,” she says, pointing to the stone walls around them. She's in a room in a cave, but how. It had to have been magic. 

“Be careful, Jo. You know the Hollow isn’t something to mess with. I think she’s looking for a body she can possess, so she can be more powerful. But even in her spirit form, she’s dangerous.”

Josie nods, like she’s making notes to herself, biting her lower lip that Hope knew meant absolute concentration. 

“Well, you’re definitely somewhere in Canada. We crossed the border this morning.” 

The image of Josie wavers and Hope steps closer, cursing the pain in her ankle as it rubs raw against the chains. “Are you okay, Jo? You know astral projection is dangerous.”

Josie flickers in and out of sight for a moment before she’s back, a pained look on her face. 

“I’m okay. Lizzie’s just worried, and we might be pushing it a bit with the whole distance from you thing that your Aunt Freya always warned us about, but Penelope is maintaining the connection.”

“Penelope’s there?” Hope feels her eyebrows raise and a smirk cross her lips because this was definitely new and enticing information. 

Hope had been in contact with Penelope in the year that she had been away. Emails and texting mostly, sometimes phone calls. Because clearly, after saving the love of Penelope’s life from an early grave, she and the witch had struck up a friendship. And it didn’t hurt to have a sounding board with her Lizzie and Landon problems. 

Astral projections can, apparently, blush. “We needed help with the location spell?” Josie offers, but Hope just scoffs. 

“Have you told her?” Hope presses, her own kidnapping suddenly the furthest thought from her mind. 

Josie bites her lip before shaking her head. “There hasn’t been a lot of time.” Josie avoids Hope’s eyes, glancing down at her feet and suddenly very interested in the stonework. 

Hope rolls her eyes, mutters “chicken” under her breath as she glances at the ceiling, worn from years of erosion. They could have at least sprung for a better view if she was meant to be the vessel for the Hollow. 

“I heard that,” Josie bites back, but it lacks any venom. 

“I meant you to,” Hope sighs, looking down for a moment, as if choosing her words carefully. 

Penelope is going to kill her. Well, either that or the Hollow will. “Penelope helped me come up for the solution with the Merge,” she admits. 

“Does she know? Did you tell her, Hope?” Hope knows Josie well enough to see the glimmer of hopefulness on her face. 

“No,” she says, “I haven’t told her. You kind of forced my hand to go through with our plan, and I didn’t have time to contact her. And after everything was over, I thought she might like to hear it from you.” 

Hope levels Josie with a glare that even through astral projection, Josie knows to be her stern face. Josie looks nervous, cornered, and Hope doesn’t want that. 

“Look, it’s not like I can tell her for you, being where I am. But you should know that she spent months researching the Merge and curses and workarounds, and if you think that telling her would make her walk away from you, just remember that.”

Hope’s voice is firm and Josie, Josie wants to listen to her because it's Hope and she never talks about feelings, always shies away from them like the plague and here she was given Josie relationship advice? 

“Captivity seems to be suiting you,” Josie teases, crossing her arms over her chest. She is cold, but it wasn’t from being in the cavern. She was cold where she was sitting, despite the warmth in her hands from Penelope’s magic, grounding her. 

They’re running out of time. 

“How is -” Hope’s voice cracks and breaks and now it's Josie’s turn to raise an eyebrow. First, Hope Mikaelson was giving her dating advice and now she is on the precipice of asking Josie about the very thing that she herself has been tiptoeing around for weeks. Months. Years. 

“Lizzie’s a mess, but at least she’s sleeping and eating. She misses you,” Josie adds, and Hope bites down on her lower lip, cursing herself for being so transparent. Although, that’s probably the least of their worries. 

“Can you tell her-” Hope begins, and she doesn’t even know what she’s going to say, just needs Lizzie to _know_ , if all of this goes wrong, that Hope cares and cares and cares about her, that she can’t stop thinking about her, that she sees a future that starts and ends with Lizzie Saltzman, but she’s interrupted by Josie shaking her head firmly. 

“No way. Save your self-sacrificing speech, Hope. Lizzie will be devastated if you don’t come back, so I need you to fight, please. Because we need you. All of us. And my sister deserves someone who’s willing to fight for her.”

Hope acquiesces with a sigh and an eye roll. “Fine. But you better tell Penelope about the Merge, Josette. _Before_ you send in the calvary and go all Avengers on this place. Please tell me you have backup that amounts to more than just yourself, Lizzie, and your ex-girlfriend who you’re still hopelessly, life-crushingly in love with?”

Josie looks sheepish when she responds, “Dad came with us, and M.G. and Kaleb and Raf and Pedro (well, he snuck in the car) and,” Josie pauses, cringing, “Landon.” 

Hope laughs loudly and it’s derisive and cynical. “Do I want to know how Landon and Lizzie are faring on a road trip up to Canada?” 

“She’s tried to leave him on the side of the road plenty of times, but maybe he can be of some use...as bait.” 

“We aren’t using my ex-boyfriend as bait, Jo!” 

“Hey, hey, he volunteered to come,” Josie offers, but she’s smiling. “For what it’s worth, Penelope is giving him as hard of a time as Lizzie. And you should know that she’s dropping house-sized hints that you’re not into him at every occasion.”

Hope goes to open her mouth, a groan escaping it but Josie amends her statement quickly. “They’re all going over his head, don’t worry. You really do like them dumb and cute, don’t you?” 

“You dated him too! And Lizzie’s smart. She’s _your_ sister.” 

Josie’s smile falters at the mention of dating Landon for the second time today, but she just waves it away. “Good thing we both came to our senses then.” 

For a moment, the mood feels deceptively light, captivity and evil witches forgotten, but a second later Josie can feel the connection wavering. Not even Penelope can keep it stable for much longer. 

“I have to go,” she rushes. “Be careful, Hope, promise me.” Josie goes to reach out, but her hand grasps the air as her touch skims through Hope’s shackled wrists. 

“I promise,” Hope replies, but she’s speaking to thin air. By the time the words have left her mouth, Josie has disappeared. 

And she’s all alone once more.


	11. we got history that keeps on repeating

They drive to an empty beach house that Kaleb and M.G. have somehow found with what Josie is very certain is a mix of compulsion and vampire speed. She’s tired, so damn tired from the astral projection, falling asleep in Penelope’s lap seconds after they get into the car. Penelope wants to say something to Josie, but the moment that the siphon curls into her side, her head in her lap, she realizes she can’t find her voice. Lizzie eyes her from the front seat, glancing at her through the rearview mirror and Penelope glares right back, but Lizzie’s gaze softens when she sees the small smile tugging at Josie’s lips as Penelope runs her hands through Josie’s hair. 

They stop at a grocery store and Penelope and Josie stay in the car while the boys shop, returning laden with enough food to feed a small army. (Pedro somehow manages to sneak three boxes of cookies, but no one seems to care.) And maybe that's what they are - an army, a squad, the cavalry to save Hope and protect her from this ageless evil that is hellbent on destruction. The answers reside in Josie’s brain, after all. They just have to put the puzzle pieces together.

It’s all research now, it seems. Josie, awake after the car ride and energized with a pot of M.G. 's famous coffee that _definitely_ had to have something other than caffeine in it, Josie tells again and again what Hope told her. She goes through the conversation with the tribrid at least three times and Lizzie takes furious notes. She tells them all about the Hollow, at least. She leaves out the part about Penelope and the Merge. It’s not important now, even though Hope’s demand that Josie tell Penelope before they find her is in the back of her mind, flashing like a neon sign. 

She was going to tell her. Soon. Saving Hope was more important though. 

M.G. and Kaleb come downstairs, at one point, arms laden with books all about the history of Quebec and Nova Scotia. Lizzie raises an eyebrow but says nothing as they dive into their reading. Alaric hands over his car keys wordlessly to Landon, M.G. and Kaleb and the boys laugh as the front door slams, their destination unknown. Josie falls asleep on the couch after they eat, Penelope’s hands in her hair once more, surrounded by maps of the surrounding areas that the boys had “borrowed” from a local city hall. So, that’s where they had escaped off to earlier. 

What feels like days later, Josie wakes up, realizing it’s the middle of the night and she's only been asleep for a few hours. She looks up, hearing Lizzie pacing in the study above her head. Her footfalls were always light. They haven’t talked about Hope at all, apart from the cold hard facts, and she slowly untangles herself from Penelope, carefully placing a pillow under the other girl’s head. Taking a few steps away, she turns around, kissing Penelope on the temple as the brunette stretches in her sleep, mumbling “Josie” with a sigh as she rolls over.

Grabbing Penelope’s robe, she walks upstairs into the darkened room and Lizzie halts her pacing when she sees Josie in the doorway. Her shoulders are hunched as if she’s trying to turn in on herself and Josie aches for her sister, feeling a gnawing pain in her chest. It was getting worse each day as Lizzie yearned for Hope. 

“You woke up,” she states simply, her jaw set. 

“Clearly. Is it still today? How long did I sleep?”

“It’s nearly four in the morning. Penelope wouldn’t let us wake you up. Pretty overprotective for someone who isn’t even your girlfriend.”

Josie rolls her eyes. Lizzie has totally lost her edge when it comes to insulting Penelope. “Hope says I should tell her about the Merge.”

“Hope’s smart. You should listen to her.” Even hearing Hope’s name leave Lizzie’s lips makes it sound special. She says it like a prayer. 

“She called you smart too. Is that today’s thing?”

“You talked about me?” There’s a definitive hitch in her sister’s voice as Josie nods. 

“She wanted to know how you were doing.” Josie leans against the desk, tapping her fingers on the wood. This conversation could go two ways. Josie decides on the easier road, for now. “She also wanted me to tell you something, but I told her she should tell you herself. Whatever it might be.”

“I miss her,” Lizzie whispers into the silence, and then, very much quieter. “I’m in love with her, Jo.”

Josie steps closer, wrapping her sister into her arms, Lizzie’s head against her shoulder. The blonde throws her arms around Josie, sinking into the embrace and allowing herself to crumble. “I know. I know you are. We’ll get her back, okay? We have to.” 

It sounds like the promise Penelope made to her days ago, but Josie knows that she lacks Penelope’s strength and she wishes the witch were awake now. But despite her words, she feels weak. The Hollow is a dangerous, dangerous foe, but she’s one that can be beaten. They've done that before and they can do it again. And now, Josie won't hesitate to move heaven and hell to get Hope back. For Lizzie. For all of them. 

“We should sleep,” she says, once Lizzie’s breathing is a little bit calmer. "You're no use to anyone if you're sleep-deprived." 

“We left the room at the end of the hall for you guys,” Lizzie supplies, “in case you want to wake your sleeping guard dog up. Or maybe she’s more like a panther, all dark and stormy.” 

“And what does that make me?” Josie challenges. 

“You’ve always been a prey animal, Jo, which isn’t a bad thing. One of you needs to have some sort of self-preservation instincts. For all of her walls, Penelope didn’t hesitate to drop everything and come here. For you. She's reckless.” 

“She came for Hope too. And you and I both know that we can’t all be Hope jumping into mud pits to save those she loves.” 

Lizzie bristles at the mention of Landon, which prompts Josie to roll her eyes. “She broke up with him, Lizzie.”

“I know, but he’s _here_ and he —"

“You don’t get the monopoly on caring about Hope Mikaelson. She chose you. Or she will. After we save her.”

“When did you get so wise?” Lizzie teases her. 

“Sometime after I tried to kill you,” Josie shoots back, and Lizzie shakes her head. 

“You’re horrible. Go wake up your girl.” Lizzie walks down the hallway to her room, stopping halfway. “Talk to her, Josie. I wish I hadn’t been too scared to talk to Hope when she was still here. It would have been worth the risk.” She says it loud enough to travel through the darkened house, hitting Josie right in the heart as the waves crashing against the shore outside. Her heartbeat pounds in rhythm with the waves as Lizzie's words wash over her. She watches her sister disappear and she knows she’s right, but she also absolutely doesn’t want to think about the conversation. Not tonight, at least. Instead, she walks back to the sofa, carefully leaning down next to Penelope. 

“Wanna sleep in a real bed?” she teases, her breath warm against Penelope’s ears. She watches the witch wake up, her eyes opening slowly as she nods. 

“You stole that,” Penelope observes, her eyes half-open in the dim light, reaching out to run a hand along the collar of her robe. 

“Want it back?” Josie smiles, a smirk on her lips. 

Penelope sits up slowly, shaking her head. “It looks better on you, anyway.” 

“God, you must be tired. You can’t even flirt with me properly.” Josie reaches a hand down to pull Penelope up and the witch stands, her chest flush with Josie’s. Penelope chances a glance upwards, eyes moving from Josie’s to her lips and then back up. It takes just one look from Penelope and in an instant, the moment is charged and Josie feels dizzy and reckless, Lizzie's words in her ears. 

“You scared me today, Jo,” Penelope whispers, and her words caress Josie's face. They're soft and smooth and even in the dim light from the moon, Penelope’s eyes sparkle and Josie inhales sharply. 

“I’m right here, Pen,” she says simply, the hand that had been holding Penelope’s reaching up to stroke the witch's cheek. Josie isn’t sure who moves first but the moment her lips meet Penelope’s, she’s sighing into the kiss, the pent-up anxiety she had been holding after her conversation with Hope rushing out of her as Penelope pulls her by the hips, impossibly closer to her. Josie surrenders to the feeling, surrenders to it all and the world seems to slow around them as they kiss, and it's deep and heartfelt and full of the promise of _something_. 

Her lips linger on Penelope’s as they pull away from each other to breathe and Josie blinks her eyes open slowly, knowing that her pupils are blown, her eyes heavy-lidded. 

“Come on,” Josie says, pulling Penelope up the stairs alongside her, their hands clasped together. Josie barely remembers pulling off Penelope’s robe to sink into the sheets, finding Penelope in the dark and throwing an arm over her stomach as she curls into the witch’s back. They wake to the sound of seagulls, the ever-present noise of waves all around them. And arguing — so much arguing. 

“It’s a suicide mission,” M.G. says loudly, his voice echoing throughout the old house. Josie scrambles from the bed with Penelope hot on her heels, taking the stairs two at a time to find M.G, Kaleb, Raf, and Lizzie all crowded around the kitchen table. Alaric holds court at the head of the table, his head bowed as he leans against the wood, knuckles white. Landon’s nowhere to be found.

“We all want to get her back, M.G.,” Alaric begins as the girls join him. 

“We don’t even know where she is! She doesn’t even know where she is! Everything is falling on Josie’s shoulders and — ” M.G. explains, frustrations from the past week spilling over and he’s right, in some ways. All they’ve been doing is reading for the past twelve hours. He makes eye contact with Josie and he has the decency to look ashamed of himself at his words, even as they sting. Josie feels Penelope readying to launch herself at him. 

“Dad, what’s going on?” Josie takes a step forward, an arm around Lizzie’s shoulder who sits, glassy-eyed, staring at what looks like a marine forecast chart. 

“I think everyone just needs to eat some breakfast, maybe take a walk to clear our heads,” Alaric says gently. Pedro peeks his head out from next to Kaleb, grinning at Josie and Penelope. Josie smiles at him as Penelope moves to his side, ruffling his hair and standing behind him. 

“We have to think smart about this and we can't just go into something with the Hollow without a plan,” Josie says, joining Alaric and moving a few maps out of the way to find the one she had felt drawn to the moment she had seen it. It was of the Magdalen Islands, located roughly sixteen hours from where they were, which pushed the limits of her astral projection, but something about it felt _right_. 

She looks around at the room. “You know Hope would do this for any of us. Risk her life to save us. She’s done it for most of us, in fact.” Some of the tension dissipates as everyone looks down, avoiding Josie’s eyes. “We owe her this.”

“So, starting from the easiest clue. She said she took a boat there, so islands are definitely the right direction. This map we found yesterday — it feels like it’s important.” Josie points to a small archipelago in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, her pointer finger hitting the Magdalen Islands. 

“I glanced over these islands briefly yesterday and ruled them out because I thought they were too far away, but I definitely think they're worth reconsidering. They have a rich history with a First Nations tribe, the Mi'kmaqs,” Josie pauses, reaching over to grab a book that Dorian had recommended the day before and that M.G. had somehow found in the house.

“Before the French showed up, the tribe had been visiting the islands for hundreds of years to hunt, so there’s a connection to the land and its surrounding area that is rich with memories. Coupled with colonization and all of the atrocities that are rolled into that, the magic needed to complete the ritual of the Hollow possessing Hope, it would be the perfect location — it fits. We know that the Hollow likes places where horrible things have happened. ” 

She directs her gaze at her Dad. “Can Dorian find out if there’s any specific connection between the islands and the Hollow?”

“I’ll call him,” he nods, quickly moving out of the room, pulling out his cellphone as he went. 

“Who did you say this house belonged to?” Josie asks, looking up at M.G. and Kaleb who smile broadly. 

“It’s some history professor who teaches at McGill. We figured that there would definitely be some sort of magical historical connection to the Hollow that we could pursue,” Kaleb replies. 

“Do you want to take Pedro and head into town to see if there’s more you can learn at a library? Maybe cool off a bit?” Lizzie offers, and it's the first time she’s spoken in a few minutes, but she levels her gaze at M.G., who is glancing down at the map. 

Kaleb nods for the three of them, as Alaric returns to the room. “So, according to Dorian, the Hollow is related to the Mi'kmaqs. They were her grandmother’s tribe.”

“The simple fact that the Hollow, that evil bitch, has a family when she took Hope’s away — we have to make her pay, Jo,” Lizzie says quietly. 

“To be fair, I believe she killed her entire family,” Alaric replies. 

“Either way, I think we have a winner,” Penelope smiles. “So, breakfast anyone?”

* * *

They spend the rest of the morning in separate rooms — the boys take the car to the city to head to the library and grab more food; Lizzie retreats to the study, a large book in her hands. Josie sets herself up in the dining room, surrounded by numerous maps and topographic charts; and Alaric seems to have his phone glued to his ear, speaking with Dorian back at the school, trying to figure out how best they could mask themselves on the drive there using Penelope's magic. 

Josie’s forgotten about Landon until he finds her in the dining room a while later, his eyes hopeful. “Did she say anything about me?”

“No, there wasn’t any time,” Josie lies, looking past Landon to see Penelope enter the doorway with a mug of her favorite tea in hand. She raises her eyebrow in question but says nothing as she joins Josie. She’s a constant presence and has been since yesterday at the beach. Josie clings to her now because everything feels off-kilter, like they’re out of their depths, and maybe they are, but Penelope by her side makes it all seem a little less scary. 

She grounds Josie, the same way she did when they were on the beach and Josie was so detached, so far away, and they still haven’t found Hope, and everything feels messy and exhausting, but the tentacles of a plan are slowly forming.

“Not even —” Landon begins, as Penelope places the mug into Josie’s hands and turns around to face him. 

“I think they were probably more preoccupied with Hope’s location, bird boy. Didn’t you want to help Alaric with the research? So, how about you flap your wings and fly away?”

“Be nice,” Josie mutters as Landon disappears, far too focused on the delicious smell of her tea to actually care. A small part of her revels in the knowledge that Penelope’s angry glare chasing Landon out of the room is definitely hot in a bossy sort of way. But she certainly wouldn’t be telling Penelope that. Her ego was large enough as it was. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Penelope says, “I am a delight. He’s the one who’s being all annoying and mopey. He’s taking the emo stereotype to a ridiculous level.” She clutches a hand to her chest, her voice taking on an exaggerated note. “Did you talk to Hope about me?”

“Yes,” Josie replies and smirks into her tea when she can see Penelope falter, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Penelope hadn't expected her answer. 

“You did? Only good things I hope?” she asks, and her voice almost sounds even. 

“As you said, you're a delight.” She reaches for Penelope’s hand, pulling her closer. “Come on, I have to look at another thirty maps of islands and hope that I magically recognize which one it might be from a ten-minute conversation with Hope in a stone cavern. Look for caves.”

“You’ll know,” Penelope promises, and she sounds so certain, so sure of Josie. 

Twenty minutes later, she’s proven right when Josie points to an image. “Here. This was exactly what it looked like.”

“Île de la Grande Entrée,” Penelope reads the caption aloud in her stupid perfect French. 

“Say that again,” Josie asks her quietly, a thrill running through her body at the way Penelope’s mouth formed the words. 

“Île de la Grande Entrée, ma chérie,” Penelope teases, her voice several octaves lower as she turns to Josie, running a finger down her shoulder to her hip, biting her lip enticingly. 

Josie has a number of ideas about how easy it would be to close the distance between them, to slide into Penelope’s lap and continue this conversation, but Penelope’s voice interrupts her thoughts. 

“Even though I’d much rather be telling you exactly what I would like to do to you en français, I think you might want to rally the squad, boss. We gotta get Lizzie's girl back.”


	12. wherever you are, come and get me now

It takes about ten minutes for Josie to assemble everyone in the dining room and explain her reasoning. She can’t convince them any other way - something inside of her _feels_ like this is right. As M.G. and the others start to complain, their dissent filling the air because no one can find anything else and they’re frustrated and tired of sleeping in strange places and want to go back home, Josie sighs, head downcast. 

Lizzie yells at the boys, her curses filling the air because of all people, she hurts the most, she’s the most affected by all of this, but Josie realizes that Lizzie has no monopoly on despair when it comes to Hope, despite her feelings. They all care about Hope, in their own ways. That’s why they're here. That’s why they’re going to fight as hard as they have to in order to get to Hope and bring her back. 

The images of Hope in the stone cavern return to Josie as she breathes and she stands up straighter, looking at Penelope, grabbing her hand before whispering a small incantation in Latin, their palms glowing. Pictures fly to the blank wall opposite them - dark stone dripping wet, a splash of blood, and Hope’s face. Lizzie gasps out loud because telling them about Hope was one thing, but _showing_ them was something totally different. 

“Penelope, can you hold that spell?” Josie asks quietly, and the witch nods before Josie grabs the old leather book, pointing to the page. 

“This is it. “Île de la Grande Entrée. It’s gotta be.”

“So what’s the plan, boss?” Kaleb asks and Josie smiles as the image on the wall fades, returning it to the drab color that it had been before.

“Alright, so…” 

It takes them just thirty minutes after Josie details her plan - get to the island and have Penelope perform another locator spell - for the group to clean out the house, destroying any trace that they were ever there, and hop in the SUV to get themselves to the islands. It's a sixteen-hour drive, but with Alaric and Kaleb at the wheel, it passes quickly. Leaving at ten p.m. was probably shortsighted, but time was of the essence after they had been drifting listlessly for so long. 

It’s just after seven in the morning by the time they make it to Souris, a small town on Prince Edward Island and Josie feels exhausted. She’s been up all night, too anxious to sleep, and her Dad and Kaleb must be even more tired. They took turns driving all night. Alaric wipes the sleep from his eyes as he navigates in the front seat, the radio a dull hum of rock music. They skirted the American border with Maine, staying on the Canadian side as they drove to the coast.

Josie, meanwhile, has spent the night curled into Penelope, and she’s almost grateful for the tight fit inside the car. The motion sickness that had wracked her body at the start of the trip seems almost like a dream, but maybe it was just Penelope’s soothing hands on her back. They whisper quiet words to each other as Penelope plays with her hands, moving her fingers over the small scar on Josie’s thumb (Lizzie had slammed a door on her hand when they were five) and across the lines of her palm. Penelope swears she can read Josie’s fortune, promises her a long life with a mysterious brunette, to which Josie responds by finding the one spot on Penelope’s ribs that was the most ticklish. 

Pedro, Landon, and Raf didn’t seem bothered by the endless driving and had drifted off to sleep soon after they had left. Pedro lay slumped over against his seatbelt (Josie having enchanted the backseat a bit larger to fit all of the boys more comfortably), his head against his chest and his hands clutching his Switch. Penelope snapped a photo with her phone, the line of drool coming out of Pedro’s mouth almost comical before Josie slaps her away, telling her to turn back around in her seat lest they get pulled over. Josie barely hides a grin as she looks at the photo on Penelope’s screen. That kid was far too cute for his own good. 

Lizzie had stared out the window, not saying a word, which was somehow even worse than her yelling. Josie could do angry Lizzie, a Lizzie who lashed out and broke things, had dealt with it for years, even. But a Lizzie that was quiet was something altogether more eerie. Josie wasn’t sure how much fight she had left in her. Or maybe she was saving it all to find Hope. 

Kaleb pulls over in the small town, finding a tiny cafe that promised coffee and breakfast, located opposite the port, where the blue ferry sat waiting for them. Josie had googled the departure times and the next one wasn’t due to leave Souris until two p.m., so they had a bit of downtime. Lizzie hated it, hated the waiting, hated the way Josie and Penelope seemed to watch her as if she would break any moment. She knew it was irrational, knew that fragile things when shattered exploded into shrapnel, but hated the attention. 

They sit down on the tables in front of the café, striped umbrellas shading them from the morning sun. Landon and Raf take care of getting the tickets, and Josie watches Landon fawn over the blonde salesgirl out of the corner of her eye as Penelope orders half the menu. He clearly seemed to have gotten over Hope in a flash. 

Eggs and bacon are placed in front of Lizzie, pancakes in front of Josie and Penelope fixes them both with a glare. 

“Eat. I’m not taking starved siphoners on a rescue mission.” Josie’s mouth waters at the sight and she reaches over to steal a blueberry from the top of Penelope’s pancakes, licking the jam off of her finger. 

“You’re on thin ice,” Penelope says with clenched teeth, but Josie’s smile wipes away any trace of anger, fake or not. Her own pancakes are banana chocolate chip and Josie doesn’t miss the way that Penelope eyes them. Slicing off a triangle, she places it on Penelope’s plate as the witch does the same with some of her blueberry pancakes. Lizzie wants to vomit at the sight. 

“You’re annoying,” Lizzie says, but stabs into her eggs anyway. At least they weren’t watery like the eggs they were forced to eat in that hellhole of a motel. 

Penelope tilts her head. “I think that might be your weakest insult to date.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes, stabbing her bacon with her fork as Josie just stares at her. 

“Since when do you eat bacon with a fork, Liz?” she asks and the blonde groans under her breath about useless sisters-in-law. 

“Don’t worry,” Penelope grins, sipping on her coffee and leaning back with a smirk, “we won’t tell Hope that you missed her so much that you couldn’t even come up with insults anymore.”

Josie keeps stealing bites off Penelope’s plate as she eats, if only to have Penelope look at her with a fond smile and an eye roll.

The day passes and with every minute, they get more jittery and nervous. It’s all waiting now. Waiting for the ferry to arrive, waiting in line in the car for everyone to board, staring at the Gulf of St. Lawrence stretched out in front of them, and more waiting. 

M.G. offers to compel the captain to drive faster. Alaric forbids it, and Josie thinks that probably the better choice, but still, every passing second feels like an hour. Josie has disguised Alaric’s crossbow as a large backpack and he clutches it to his legs as they sit on the exposed top of the ferry, the spray of the water hitting their faces. Jose licks her lips and she tastes salt. She smiles over at Penelope who seems to have the same thought, bringing their faces together for a chaste kiss. 

Six hours feel like sixty and Josie breathes a sigh of relief when she finally, finally sees the island in the distance. They pile back into the car, and Penelope navigates Alaric in the right direction, a map they found in the old beach house in her hand. Josie is buzzing with anticipation because there is _more_ magic here. Something simmering. She can feel it. She can’t feel Hope's magic, but that could be the cloaking charm. She hopes it is. They’re almost there when Penelope tells Alaric to stop the car along the coastline of the small island. 

She tosses the map in the seat beside her, kindly shoving Josie and Lizzie out of the passenger doors with a mumbled: “trust me.” 

Penelope opens the backpack she always has with her, placing a circle of candles around herself and the twins. “You all can get out too. Stretch your legs, keep an eye on things. Feed the kid.” Penelope winks at Pedro as she pauses in her task. “This spot was calling to me, so I called an audible,” she explains. 

“Josie, if you would do me the honors, please?” Penelope asks cryptically, but Josie only has to say _incendia_ in low tones for all of the wicks to ignite instantly, their flames blowing in the breeze. 

“You’re lovely,” Penelope beams at Josie, who smiles proudly. Lizzie never pegged her darling sister for having a praise kink, but who knew? Learn something new each day. 

“Sandalwood, sandalwood, sandalwood,” she mutters to herself as she digs in the bag. “Ah, found it,” she says to herself, kneeling, her entire focus on the pattern she’s drawing on the ground. 

“I know last time I was able to do the spell with just Lizzie, given her total puppy-dog eyes head-over-heels infatuation with our resident hero-”

“Watch it, Park,” Lizzie breathes through clenched teeth, which Penelope ignores. 

“But,” she continues brightly, “I was thinking...since you have the most recent contact with Hope, Jojo, we can do the locator spell all together?” Penelope glances up at the twins and she looks smaller than she ever has, unsure. The weight of this hangs on her shoulders, heavy, and she’s conscious of her one shot to get them as close to Hope’s location if possible. 

“An actual request from the grim reaper?” Lizzie asks, shocked. Penelope clenches her jaw and says nothing. 

Josie and Lizzie exchange glances before they kneel down in front of her. She braces herself at the vista point, back to the water and the rushing waves all around them and holds out her hands to the twins.

It probably says a lot about their situation that even Lizzie takes it without any kind of comment, despite her initial reluctance to take Penelope’s hand before Josie had. Penelope winks at Josie, her anxiousness gone, before she closes her eyes saying, “Back in a flash.” 

The bravado is too much, really, a mask of personality she uses to protect herself slotting into place effortlessly, but Josie can feel the staccato of Penelope’s heartbeat even in the palm of her hand. She hates that the witch thinks she even needs to wear the mask, but remembers the fights that she would have with Lizzie when they first started dating. How Lizzie had called Penelope heartless, a monster, devoid of a soul, when in reality, she had cared and cared and cared, showed Josie a side of herself that she had closed off to everyone else because Parks never let people in, never let them get close enough to do damage. 

But Penelope had let Josie in. She had _seen_ Penelope - how soft she could be with Pedro, how hard she could be when wronged, how gentle she was when Josie was hurting, how her eyes lit up when she learned a new spell or enchantment, how she knew all of the words to the Devil Wears Prada and the Little Mermaid. Josie had seen all of her, armor be damned, and she wanted more and more and more. A lifetime of memories and moments with the witch sitting before her, who wore her swagger like a shield except for all except for one person. 

Penelope’s eyes spring open and Josie gets lots in them, the light hitting the green irises just right. They’re emerald and gold, honey and sage swirling in ephemeral beauty and she can barely look away. Penelope determined was a sight to behold and Josie feels her mouth go dry. Paris feels like ages away, lifetimes gone by since they buried themselves in a cocoon of happiness, but if Penelope keeps looking at her like that, maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. 

“So,” Penelope clears her throat, and Josie adjusts her grip as Lizzie drops her hand as if burned. The blonde just rolls her eyes and groans. 

_"Today_ , Satan,” she reminds Penelope, who seems content to wait while Lizzie silently fumes. 

“She’s below us. There’s gotta be a cavern or something along the beach, something only accessible by water, but something else is there. Something that seems off. It’s not a cloaking spell. It's something else.” 

“You mean the Hollow? Her magic is old, Penelope,” Lizzie explains, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “it doesn’t feel like our magic or even Hope’s. It’s more...visceral.”

Kaleb, who had been perusing the map on the hood of the SUV slams his index finger down on the metal of the car and says “Got it,” triumphantly. They crowd around the car, looking at the topographical map, and the hollowed-out cavern looms menacingly. The contour lines all around it, indicating the depth, give them all pause, because a high tide could flood the cave in a flash, but Penelope nods. “That has to be it, Jo.” 

“I believe you,” she smiles back at the brunette.

Lizzie has no choice but bite out, “Well, what the fuck are we waiting for then? A verbal invitation from the Hollow herself?” 

Josie waves a hand, the remnants of the materials needed for the spell flying into Penelope’s open backpack as they all fold themselves back into the car, doors slamming as gravel crunches and flies from under the car’s tires. Alaric might have gunned the accelerator a bit too hard, but with Kaleb’s directions, he’s easily able to find an abandoned road down to an old parking lot. 

Josie and Lizzie remove the enchantment on Alaric’s crossbow, which he shoulders as they all stand around the car before Penelope. She looks up and down the coastline, hands on her hips, breathing in the sea air as her hair whips around her face. 

“This way,” she says with a smirk and they all follow her. Penelope and Josie lead, with Kaleb, M.G., and Lizzie behind, Pedro between Raf and Landon, and Alaric at the back of the group, his eyes darting the dunes and the cliffs. The beach is deserted, which they expected, but the rushing waves to their left are as loud as thunderclaps as they draw closer to where Penelope is being guided by her magic. 

“Any chance we can magick up some kayaks and lifejackets, babe? It’s gonna get a bit _wet_ if we want to mount an incursion through the littorals.” Penelope really needed to quit reading all of those naval history books, Josie reasons quickly, before the innuendo hits her squarely in the face and she feels herself grow hot. 

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” Josie scoffs with an eye roll, her cheeks burning, but with some siphoning from the boys, they conjure up four kayaks, complete with oars and lifejackets. Pedro looks even smaller as the lifejacket dwarfs him, but he gets placed in a three-person kayak with Landon and Raf, while M.G. partners with Kaleb and Lizzie drifts closer to Alaric. 

Lizzie dumps a pile of sand out from her combat boots, groaning about the effects of nature on fashion, but Josie smiles. This almost feels like a family vacation. A fucked-up family vacation where they have to stop some crazy witch from possessing the body of their best friend and the love of Lizzie’s life, but a vacation nonetheless. Complete with water sports.

“Guess we’re the tip of the spear babe,” Penelope smiles as she snaps the lifejacket into place over her shirt. Josie pulls her hair up into a ponytail, grabbing her oar before walking over to give Penelope a quick kiss, siphoning a bit from her as she touches the back of Penelope’s neck. “You better be right,” she whispers. 

“I’m always right,” Penelope levels back, but the kiss has served to both calm her nerves and embolden her as they pull the kayaks to the water’s edge. It’s slow-going at first, the group battling the waves to get out far enough, but as soon as they all make a turn to their right, they see the mouth of a cave, and beyond that, a beach that looks like it’s been shielded from the rest of the world. The cliffs rise up high on both sides, too steep for passage down. 

Josie and Penelope paddle forward slowly, pulling the kayaks onto the shore of the beach, helping Pedro out of the kayak before they regroup, seeing a second entrance to the cavern two hundred yards in front of them. It’s quiet, far too quiet, the only noise the occasional sound of a seagull cawing and of the waves smacking into the mouth of the other entrance on the water. 

As the group walks toward the cave’s entrance, Josie throws out a hand, stopping Penelope in her tracks as M.G. slams into her back, causing a cascade as Pedro stumbles into Lizzie’s back and Alaric nearly bowls over Landon. 

“Watch it, Milton. Where’s all that vampire speed you’re supposed to have?” Penelope spits out, rubbing her shoulder. 

“Shut up, you two,” Josie whispers, “can’t you feel it? The magic here is - it’s not right.” 

With a deep breath, Penelope looks at Josie, holding out her hand. “Canary in the coal mine?” she asks simply, and Josie nods, grabbing her hand as they cross the threshold. Lizzie snorts, realizing a lost moment to torment Landon, but follows them closely. 

Alaric and the boys follow a few feet behind them, their footsteps quiet on the sand. Alaric’s index finger tenses against the trigger of the crossbow. 

“I don’t like the looks of this, you three,” he says to Penelope, Josie, and Lizzie, hands outstretched in case of an impending attack. 

They hear - nothing. Absolutely nothing, save for the rushing of the waves all around them. The water meets the beach in the middle of the cave, splashing against the shore. M.G. and Kaleb move quickly around them, finally able to put their skills to good use after being stuck in the car for so long, but in seconds they’re back to the group, shaking their heads. 

It’s Lizzie who realizes it first, more in touch with Hope’s magic than Josie is. “She isn’t here,” she says, and her voice rings through the empty cave, bouncing off of the walls as she sinks to her knees, her arms wrapped around herself. “Her magic is here, but she isn’t. Not anymore. They took her away.”

The ground around them is vibrating, as Josie looks around. Lizzie’s panic threatens to turn into a meltdown. “How did they know we were coming? We didn’t even tell Dorian the exact location. Do they have a seer? Tracking spells?” Her voice is an octave higher than normal, panicked.

“They’ve been gone for a while,” Josie says, “a couple of hours at least.” The traces of Hope’s magic feel faint to Josie as she walks over to a wall near the back of the cave, where a room has been hollowed out, fitted with a metal door, large chains on the ground. 

“Maybe they had an eye on the ferry tickets,” Penelope suggests. “Keeping watch for anyone associated with the school?”

Raf clears his throat, looking at Landon. “Do you think- the girl?”

“She was way too nice to be a spy,” Landon replies with a headshake. 

Penelope zeroes in on him and her voice could freeze water. “What - exactly - did you tell her, you poor excuse for a McNugget?”

“Just that we were heading to the island to look for a friend. Nothing important.” Landon’s eyes dart to Raf to bail him out of the mess that he’s made, but Raf just shakes his head. 

“Nothing important?” Lizzie echoes and the floor beneath them begins to shake. Magic sparks from Lizzie’s hand, darting toward the wall on the other end of the cave. There’s a flash of light, a hiss, and a suddenly visible barrier seems to close in around them before it halts with a shudder, the walls vibrating. 

Penelope meets Josie’s gaze and she knows they’re both thinking the same thing. “Absorbing barrier,” Penelope says, and Josie nods. The group moves against the wall closest to them, Pedro ducking behind the boys, eyes on Lizzie with a soft smile. 

“Anything magical will be swallowed by it and make it stronger. We’re trapped.”

“Can you remove it?” Penelope asks, and Josie raises her hand to the wall. She manages to push it back an inch, but a second later, it closes in on them again as more sparks fly from Lizzie’s hands.

“Jo,” she breathes out, “I can’t stop it.”

“Dad?” Josie prompts, pushing against the barrier, obviously strained. 

He remains frozen in place, his mind working fast but not fast enough and Penelope rolls her eyes, kneeling down on the floor in front of Lizzie.

“Alright, Elsa, time to get your magic under control,” Penelope breathes out as she takes Lizzie by the shoulders. “You need to calm down. You won’t do Hope any good if you can’t keep your emotions in check, even with a minor setback. Just look into my eyes and breathe.” Penelope levels a glare at Lizzie who looks anywhere but at the hazel eyes that have tormented her sister for years. 

Lizzie feels the walls of the cave closing in. Everything around her feels too tight, constricting, and Hope’s absence is more painful than ever, and Lizzie can’t - she should have told her when she still had the chance, no matter how much it might have scared her. 

Hope would know how to make this better, she thinks, and she hates this, because she misses Hope almost viscerally, an essential part of her gone, and without her anchor, every breath feels like free-falling. It’s too much, and it’s been going on for days and weeks, and she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep going, knowing that Hope is captured and missing and Lizzie can’t help her. 

“Eat bird shit, Penelope,” she breathes out, but her hands shake a little less, so Penelope keeps going. She can hear Josie cursing frantically, dashing around behind her, and she wants to look, check, make sure that she’s okay, but she knows that this is the best way to help her, by helping Lizzie. 

“Just look at me. Deep breaths. We’re going to find her, and she’s going to be fine. Your girl’s a tough cookie, and besides, I have so much material to tease you with now. I just need the chance to use it.” Penelope goes to place a hand on Lizzie’s chest and the blonde immediately steps backward but Penelope grits her teeth. 

“Relax, I’m not trying to cop a feel before Mikaelson has a chance. Just a calming spell.” 

“Direct your hands away from the girls then, asshat,” Lizzie says, her voice lacking the normal bite. Penelope touches Lizzie’s shoulder again, closing her eyes as she wills calmness into the siphon. Lizzie’s breathing calms, slowly, and her hands have stopped shaking enough for Penelope to let go after a few moments. 

Penelope turns on her heels, chances a glance at Josie, who still has both her hands on the wall, glowing red, struggling to siphon the spell away. 

Lizzie gets to her feet, a little shakily. “I’ll help.”

Together, the twins siphon the spell trapping them inside away, the barrier flashing out of existence with a loud bang, and all of them stumble outside, back into the sunlight that’s far, far too bright for how dark their moods are. Far too bright for how late it is, but time might have moved differently in the cave or even this far north. For a moment, they breathe a sigh of relief, finally free and safe, but a second later, the realization sets back in, all too clear. 

Hope's still missing, they have no idea where she could be, and all of their leads are gone and any element of surprise is gone.


	13. one single thread of gold (tied me to you)

Lizzie’s throat is raw from screaming, which she doesn’t remember happening. She can’t remember the moment her voice filled up the cavernous space they were in, echoing loudly. She realizes it as she clears it on the walk back to the kayaks, out of the cave, the raw pain, no match to the pain she actually feels. She notices Josie looking at the stone walls of the cavern, marvelling at the construction — the magic, really — of breaking out the stone to create a room that housed Hope. Lizzie can’t, won’t bring herself to look at it. It’s just further evidence that they fucking failed. 

That Hope is still in danger, is still kidnapped. Not just kidnapped, but held hostage by the Hollow, part of a nefarious, evil plan, and it makes Lizzie boil with rage (and shiver with fear) that they still haven’t managed to rescue her. To bring her home. 

No one says a word as they kayak back to the beach, walk to the car, and race back to the port in time for the last ferry of the day. Lizzie can feel herself nearing the breaking point, counting down the seconds until she can throttle Landon because they shouldn’t have brought him, because he is the cosmic mistake in all of this, the reason for their failure and he is only bringing them down. 

Sure enough, Lizzie slams her car door and wheels around to face Landon, hands raised, the moment Alaric puts the SUV into park on the ferry. She can’t help it. He’s an easy target but if it weren’t for him then they would have —

“Tell me exactly what you said to that girl if you want to walk away with your favorite appendage intact, birdboy!”

“Lizzie!” Josie and Penelope yell simultaneously, springing between the pair as Raf comes up behind Landon. Penelope goes for Landon as Josie goes for Lizzie, her hands on either side of Lizzie’s arms. “Lizzie, not here!” 

“Why not?! Of course, the bird fucked it up. You had to just go and peacock around, didn’t you, mudbrain? If you’re the reason we don’t find —,” her voice cracks and breaks and Josie pulls her away from the group towards an open bench not at all calming. The others don’t follow. Dad looks at Lizzie and Josie just shakes her head. He’s never been the best when it comes to parenting. It's been just the two of them against the world ever since Mom left for the first time. Penelope loudly suggests that they all go to find some food for the ferry ride back, taking Pedro by the hand as she leads the group away, leaving Lizzie and Josie alone, exposed to the elements and the cool sea breeze. 

Josie says things, lots of things, she knows that, but she’s not really paying attention, her eyes unfocused. 

“Hope will be okay,” she remembers, and, “we’ll find her,” and Lizzie wants to believe her sister, she does, wants to believe the words she's repeating like a mantra. Josie takes the few minutes she has on Lizzie in this world to act as her protector - she always has, and Lizzie finds that even now, she can’t help but think that it isn’t enough. Nothing’s enough. She’s just — scared. She’s really fucking scared, and every second without Hope feels like floating, free falling, and she hates it. 

She’s worried and she misses Hope and stupid fucking Landon should be skewered for screwing up like this. She hears Josie’s whispered calming spell, knows Penelope’s has long worn off. She feels the fog drifting over her once again, dipping the world into shades of silence and grey, and she’s grateful. It’s better than despair, than the weight on her chest making it too hard to breathe. It is better than drowning in all of her emotions. 

They make it back to the island and they all jump in the car. Sometime during the ride, Lizzie falls asleep, restless, figments of nightmares haunting her mind and finally wakes up when they stop in front of an abandoned beach house. It might be nightfall or the next day. She’s not sure. The world feels out of balance. 

Off-kilter. 

Someone presses a sandwich into her hand. She eats it, falls asleep on a sofa wrapped in a blanket. 

By the time she wakes up, it’s pitch black outside. 

She doesn’t remember falling in love. She doesn’t have stories, not like Josie, who could talk for hours about the first time Penelope smiled at her, the first time their eyes met across a room, the first time they kissed. Josie’s love affair with Penelope’s was a series of moments building to the inevitable. Josie could catalog and categorize each interaction. Josie and Penelope loved each other in vignettes. 

And Lizzie and Hope — well, Lizzie was five the first time she met Hope Mikaelson, and she smiled at her and Hope sure as hell didn’t smile back. She stormed up to her room and locked herself in for two days, refusing to talk to anyone. The thing about Hope and Lizzie is that they’ve been friends and they’ve been enemies and Hope has ignored her and Lizzie has hated her, and she doesn’t know, with how long Hope has been a constant in her life, when she fell in love with her. 

She can't pin down a day or a moment or even a smile or glance from Hope.

It could have been during Miss Mystic Falls out in the woods, when Hope finally let herself go, or later that night when she held a crying Hope in her arms. It could have been when she finally got her memories back and the name Hope Andrea Mikaelson was playing on repeat in her mind like a broken record. It could have been when Josie went dark and Lizzie knew, deep down in her core, that the safest place in the world was by Hope’s side. It could have been any one of those moments.

It could have been before then, when they were thirteen, before the fire, or afterward, when their whole world had been set aflame. It could have been when Lizzie tried and tried, and Hope ran and ran, or when they collided with biting words and angry flashes of emotion. 

Lizzie doesn’t know. 

What she knows is this: Hope is her anchor, the person who keeps her grounded and calm. Fighting Hope was the focal point of her life when everything else was spinning out of control, and when they were friends, Hope’s calm hands and quiet words made her feel at peace like nothing else does. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, her anchor was taken, pulled out from underneath her without even a hint of warning, and Lizzie feels unmoored, like she is drifting listlessly. She'd known she had to control her temper and her past feelings regarding Penelope Park when Josie suggested they contact the witch for help to find Hope. She'd known that while she was torn out of orbit with Hope gone, Josie hadn’t been faring much better and maybe Penelope back would provide the stability to actually get the job done. To get Hope back.

Because finding Hope isn't a task that they can do alone. Penelope is selfish and that was one of the reasons she had broken Josie so spectacularly, but she is loyal and selfless and she fights for her friends and family with all of her might. Lizzie had known Penelope Park would fight to bring Hope back. And maybe, actually, fight to win Josie back too. 

Josie deserves happiness. 

No matter what else happens, no matter where they go from here, her sister deserves someone who loves her like Penelope does. 

Someone who will fight for her. Someone who will fight with her. 

It’s what Lizzie has to do now. Fight for the one she loves. No matter the cost. And the cost is bound to be high, now that the first row of plans has failed, now that they’re entering into dangerous, unknown territory. 

In her bag, she finds the three books, hidden beneath makeup and clothes. She borrowed them, but she doesn’t think Hope would mind. 

She’s the one who showed Lizzie where she keeps them, after all. It had been easy enough to siphon the spell protecting them away, and it’s at least one part of Hope she could carry with her. She’s hoped she wouldn’t have to use them. 

The Mikaelson family grimoire lies heavy in her hands, more than a millennium of knowledge, everything, the spells that created vampires, the daylight rings, the moon rings, some of the most powerful magic the world has ever seen. It had been Ester’s and then Dalia’s, and they had used it for wicked things and revenge and destruction, and later, much, much later, Freya had filled the pages and then finally passed it on to Hope. Hope had told her about that, in the quiet nights, they’d spend lying next to each other, watching movies, talking about god and the world and everything in between. 

God, Lizzie misses her. 

With fresh determination, she opens the chapter _Mind Magic_ begins carefully taking notes. She will get Hope out of there, no matter what. 

Josie finds her later, nearly an hour after she disappeared. She sits on the cold, wet sand, facing the waves as they crash on the shore. Penelope’s bag lays open next to her, spilling out sage and incense. Shit, she probably should have returned that. 

“Are you gonna do what I think you’re gonna do?” Josie nearly has to yell over the sound of the waves, but Lizzie knows that she is there. She could feel her — the way her heart beat soft and sure, even now. Josie had faith in what they were doing. 

Lizzie wasn’t sure she did. 

“It’s the only way, Jo,” Lizzie argues as Josie sits down next to her, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her long arms around them. She’s freshly showered, her hair falling in waves down her back and she’s definitely not wearing any sort of sweater that Lizzie has ever seen before, which means that Josie had raided Penelope’s suitcase. Gross. 

“It’s not and you know it,” Josie levels back. “It’s bold. And unexpected. Can I convince you otherwise?” 

“No,” Lizzie says simply and that’s all that Josie needs to know before she nods. 

“You’ll have to do it later tonight after the boys have gone to bed. But if this doesn't work, Lizzie, I don’t know what —” 

“It will, Josie. It has to. I can’t take another day of inaction, another failure. It always had to be me, I think.” Lizzie is biting her lip, determined. Convincing herself more than Josie. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” Josie says, Lizzie picks up the blanket, tossing the sand off of it, stowing everything away before handing the bag to Josie, who raises an eyebrow because Lizzie had never been the best at hiding evidence. Josie just hoped Penelope wouldn’t flip. She would understand...eventually. 

They wander along the beach. 

And they don’t talk much.

There’s nothing much left to say. 

“Are you okay?” Josie asks her, afterward, before they step back into the house through the back patio. 

“I will be,” Lizzie promises her. 

Lizzie dreams when she falls asleep, wild and furious. A lamb fresh for the slaughter, a deer hunted in the woods. She wakes up with cold sweat on her forehead, all over her body, the sheets sticking to her. 

Hope still isn’t here. 

Lizzie should have died in the Merge. It’s funny, she thinks, how life works out. Hope saved her life then, so, so determined to fight the unstoppable force that dark Josie had been. And she’d done it. Lizzie is alive, alive and ready to return the favor. 

Josie’s left a candle near the stairs. It’s exactly what Lizzie needs. There’s no note. When it matters, they’ve always understood each other. She picks the candle up, packs her things. 

The woods at the front of the house feel almost welcoming. 

There is a clearing about half a mile in, and she kneels down on the wet grass. Around her, she spreads stones and sage. She’s memorized the spell. The grimoire is safely back at the house. Hope might want it back at some point. 

The moon is full, shining onto the clearing. 

Time to begin. 

“Who are you, little girl?” The woman demands, as soon as she appears. Lizzie looks up at her. She could be beautiful, she certainly has the features for it. But there’s something evil glittering in her expression. Something bad. Something that smells and feels ancient. Unknown. Other. Lizzie gets to her feet. It’s no use trying to bargain and negotiate on your knees. Her fingers flex against her suspenders and she resists the urge to hook her fingers in them. No, she crosses her arms over her chest. That’s a power stance, right? 

She exhales slowly. From now on, it’s all about balance. Projecting the right mix of confidence and naiveté. She cracks her knuckles, her jaw set and clenched. “You need a vessel, I hear. I don’t much like the one you picked. She isn’t right.”

The woman laughs and it’s shrill and it grates against Lizzie’s teeth, against her mind. It feels like shards of glass against her heart. Because isn’t she just an apparition? She isn’t corporeal. They’re on the spirit plane, out of space and time. Her name is Inadu, Lizzie knows. “Why would I care what you think, young one?”

“You’ll do better with a voluntary vessel. Let Hope go, take me instead.” Lizzie shouldn’t have said her name, but she couldn’t help it. Because every step leading her to this point, to this choice had always been a staccato of _Hope, Hope, Hope._ It was always going to turn out this way, she had told Josie earlier. Because Hope Mikaelson sacrifices herself for those she loves and it's about damn time that someone did it for her. She hopes it will be enough. 

(She hoped that she will be enough.) 

“Love is such a human folly,” Inadu says, circling around Lizzie with measured steps, looking her up and down. Lizzie feels herself grow warm under her gaze, but she couldn’t break now that she was so close. Inadu was considering it. “A weakness.”

“Stupid, stupid, little girl. Hope Mikaelson is an immortal tribrid. The most powerful vessel this Earth can offer me.” Her laughter is cackling now. And it feels like thunderbolts inside of Lizzie’s chest “And you? One teenage witch with barely any power, trying to defy me?”

“Use me instead, ” Lizzie says, and her voice is shaking. She isn’t above pleading. The game is up, but it was never really hers in the first place, was it? She overplayed her hand. That seems clear. The cards have fallen now, and from now on, how this plays out isn’t in her hands anymore. 

“Hmmmm, you could be useful, ” Inadu raises her hands and a barrier appears around them. “My vessel is proving rather stubborn. Difficult to possess. And I could use a mortal body until I break her. So you can be my vessel, for now, and then you can perish together.”

“No,” Lizzie breathes out, her voice lost to the sound of raucous laughter. 

She thinks of Hope, and broken words fall from her lips, one last hurrah, and then the darkness takes her. 


	14. if i'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Josie’s shaken awake by Alaric before the sun’s up. “Lizzie’s gone — we have to — she might —” His voice dies on his lips and he swears loudly. Penelope sits up next to her, the hand that had been slung across Josie’s stomach moving fast back to her side of the bed as if Alaric was going to notice anything in the face of Lizzie gone. She rubs the sleep from her eyes and runs a hand through her hair. Thank god they were clothed before he had come barging one. That would have been a _fun_ conversation. Not.

With a glance at the clock on the bedside table, it was barely four in the morning. God, it’s way too early for this. 

“Dad, slow down,” Josie says, a hand reaching out to his arm. She nearly mumbles a calming spell before she lets go because she’d honestly never seen him like this. Parenting has never come easy to him, that is for sure, but he’d usually managed with a bit less panic. 

“Can — can you get everyone together so we can talk about this?” 

“Talk about this — Josette, your sister is gone! Missing! The night after we get back from that failed rescue attempt!”

“Yeah, Dad, I know. Can we just — can we all talk downstairs? Preferably with something warm and caffeinated to drink?” Josie crosses her arms over her chest, doesn’t miss the look Penelope is giving her because the news of Lizzie missing should scare Josie, should terrify her down to her core, because Josie without Lizzie is like a body without a soul, but she doesn’t seem surprised at all. 

It’s very Lizzie, Penelope thinks, to shatter everything into shards and leave Josie to pick up the pieces. But maybe they had shattered everything together? It’s easier to imagine than Lizzie going behind Josie’s back. Penelope inhales sharply before she gets out of the bed, smoothing out the blanket and fluffing the pillow as she works her jaw numb, clenching and unclenching her teeth.

They can’t change anything now, Josie realizes. Lizzie did what she had to and Josie gets it. She would do the same thing for Penelope in a heartbeat. Less than a heartbeat. With no questions asked. Hope Mikaelson certainly doesn’t have the monopoly on sacrifices around here and Lizzie doesn’t either. 

Josie pulls a sweater over her head and tries to place a hand at Penelope’s lower back, but the witch steps away from her to make her way toward the stairs. 

She should have guessed that this was going to be Penelope’s reaction. Penelope didn’t have the market share on keeping secrets, but it seemed she _did_ have issues when they were kept from her. A nagging voice in the back of her mind, sounding too much like both Hope and Lizzie, reminds her that Josie has definitely been keeping a number of secrets. But she doesn’t _really_ have the time to deal with that train of thought right now. 

Once downstairs, the mug of coffee cradled between her hands, Josie begins explaining. “Lizzie left last night and went out into the clearing to negotiate with the Hollow. If everything went to plan, we should be able to track down both Hope and Lizzie and, you know,” Josie waves her hand, “mount a rescue mission or whatever. Super squad style.”

“Went to plan?!” M.G. questions. “What exactly was the _plan_ here? Sacrifice Lizzie?“

At the other end of the room, Penelope’s leaning against the counter. Her gaze is focused on Josie, intent and observant. Her expression’s blank, the perfect poker face, but Josie can feel the harshness of the gaze. She’s in the doghouse, that’s for damn sure.

Josie takes a sip of her coffee, still slightly too warm, burning in her mouth, before answering the question. “Lizzie found a spell that would make it harder for the Hollow to possess her. Basically hiding her real self from the Hollow. If it worked, I can contact her now, without the Hollow knowing.”

“You just let her do this?” Alaric explodes. “Put herself in danger like that? There is no way that Lizzie can outwit the Hollow.” Wow, Dad, way to trust your daughter. 

“She’ll be fine,” Josie says and focuses on keeping her voice calm. “She had a lot more control than anyone else against the Oni.” 

“You should have told me!” he rants, angrily pacing through the kitchen. “And you should have stopped her, Josette.”

“I am not her keeper,” Josie says, putting her mug down and standing up. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Penelope shepherding everyone else out of the kitchen. “I know you like to think I am —”

Josie feels the darkness swirling in her mind and she takes a deep breath before looking into her father’s eyes. A hand to her arm from Penelope brings her back. Penelope always had a way of being able to bring her back. 

“She’s doing exactly for Hope what any of us would do for her and you know that, Dad! Think about if it was bio-mom or anyone el— Lizzie loves her! We ran out of options and she took the only path she thought she could take. We have to make the Hollow play her hand. What else could we have done?”

Josie steps closer to Alaric and she’s nearly chest to chest with him. Her nails are digging crescent moons into her hand and she bites her lip to contain the blackness she feels creeping into her mind like tendrils of a wandering vine.

She takes one breath and then another, staring daggers at her father. 

“You could have kept your sister safe! Here! With us!” 

“While Hope wastes away fucking kidnapped while her body is prepped to be used as a vessel?! Great choice, Dad!” She takes a few steps back. “Lizzie would have dealt with that _so_ well.”

* * *

When she finally storms off to the outside porch, down the stairs, and toward the beach, anger's still coiling tightly inside of her like a snake undulating. She’d known he wouldn’t understand. Her parents have been treating them like children for years, keeping each and every secret until it spilled out, tainting everything that they once cherished as a family. And now, even though the Merge is fixed and Josie and Lizzie will somehow both still be here the day that they turn twenty-two, Hope’s missing and Lizzie has put herself right in the crosshairs. 

Josie glares out at the ocean, stormy waves and grey clouds above to match her mood as she stands, arms crossed over her chest. She might have talked a good game in front of Dad, but god, she’s worried about Lizzie. The twin bond feels diminished, only the weakest hint of it still present in her chest, like a dying ember, and Josie doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like any of this. She _can’t_ do this without Lizzie. 

She hears Penelope approaching behind her, her normally quiet steps heavy on the wet sand. She looks almost nonchalant, not a hair out of place, but Josie knows her well enough to see that her gaze is filled with concern. Penelope stands next to her, not looking at her. 

“So, what’s the exit plan here? How do we get Lizzie out?” she asks, and her voice sounds almost dangerously calm. Business-like. 

Josie explains the plan, step by step, the anger diminishing and replacing itself with determination. Penelope listens carefully, asking all the right questions. Lizzie has shielded her mind, hopefully, and hopefully, Josie will be able to contact her with a variation of the astral projection. There were too many variables and too much left to chance but fuck it if they had a better plan. 

Penelope asks her about herbs and timing, about candles and incantations, and Josie waits for the fire, the fight, the argument. The end of it all. She’s humming with anticipation when Penelope finally turns toward her, eyes still downcast, smoothing out the lines of her skirt and stuffing her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket.

“Let’s do the spell this afternoon,” she suggests, and she still sounds _so_ unnaturally calm. 

“Don’t you care?” Josie explodes. “We lied to everyone, I kept secrets from you, and _this_ is your reaction? Calm, cool, and collected?”

“You’ve made it _abundantly_ clear, Josie, that you’d rather not tell me things.” Penelope finally raises her eyes and looks at her then and she can see the hurt manifesting behind her eyes, swirling in her green irises. It stings more than any fight could — the cold, detached timbre of Penelope’s voice. As if she couldn’t care less. As if this was exactly what she had been waiting for the moment that her feet hit the ground off of the flight from Paris. 

It’s Josie’s worst fear — that Penelope just doesn’t care enough about her or staying in the end. That she’ll leave and walk away and maybe pop in once a year to see Hope, and they would tiptoe around each other awkwardly, still nursing wounds and the gaping chasm of everything between them ripped wide open. Josie would rather know sooner than later if that’s the case. She would rather hurt now. Lizzie was gone and Hope was missing and they were so broken, so tired of running after clues, chasing shadows across the continent and —

“You can go, you know. Tonight. We can get a flight for you back to Paris and you don’t have to worry about me or Hope any longer. You’ve left once, so it should be easy to do it again. You don’t even have to worry about the threat of the Merge either — Hope fixed that problem. So, you can wipe your hands of me and this godforsaken mess that we pulled you into.” 

“What did you say?” Penelope asks, her voice rough and low, barely breaking above the sound of the crashing waves. 

“I said — you can go,” Josie enunciates, venom in her words because she’s itching for a fight. If her Dad isn’t going to give her one, maybe Penelope will. 

“Tell me about the Merge,” Penelope demands. 

“I killed Lizzie and Hope fixed it,” Josie says calmly as if it had been the easiest thing in the world. “She bound her life force to Landon’s. Can’t kill the immortal chicken.”

“It worked,” Penelope whispers, almost quietly, before the full meaning of Josie’s words sets in. The air around them crackles, and Josie’s not sure if it’s emotion or magic. Penelope usually has her powers under excellent control, but right now, even the waves at their feet feel charged. They feel angry. 

“You didn’t think to mention this?” Penelope explodes. She turns away from Josie, pacing before she whips around again. “A half sentence? A quick word? Hey, I’m no longer in constant danger of dying, by the way? Nothing?” Above them, clouds are pulling up, dark and looming and the sky turns black, all traces of moonlight on the ocean gone. 

“Not even in Paris? On the flight? While we were driving all over the country and sleeping in the same bed _every_ night? When I asked you and you said,” thunder interrupts her words, and her voice is raised,“ _it’s been a long year_.”

“Oh, okay! Because you’ve been so fucking transparent about everything! Nothing’s changed with you, Penelope. It’s always mystery and hiding and veiled words that get you off. You like keeping secrets because then you have leverage and armor and you won’t get hurt.” Josie’s seething, feels the anger coursing through her veins like dark magic and the tips of her fingers spark, flames dancing upon her skin. 

“Loving you hurts, Josie! It always has!” Penelope feels her voice crack and break on the words. She told herself she wasn’t going to cry — that this fight, whatever it was, would only spiral out of control if she didn’t keep her emotions in check. But the air's swirling around them like a tornado and she feels tiny pinpricks of hurt like shards of glass in her lungs with each breath she takes. 

Josie is faring no better. The words hit her like she’s been stabbed in the gut with a sword. She stumbles then recovers and her voice booms loudly, thunder rattling through their bones. “I’m sorry for being such a burden then. Like I said, you can go!” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Penelope wants to claw at her hair, nails digging into her scalp. “Hope never told you how long we’d been working on this? That I’ve spent every minute of the past year trying to keep you alive.”

One revelation after another and Josie feels herself falter. Never in a million years had she known that after Penelope’s burn book, after everything — but Penelope was still a witch through and through and a fantastic one at that. She could solve any problem thrown her way at school. Josie’s early demise due to the demands of her coven was no different. 

But she had left. 

She had washed herself of Josie and the Salvatore School and lived in Paris with plants and friends she called chérie and — “She might have mentioned what you helped her, but not that you were working on it all year.”

“How could you keep this from me?!” 

“Because we aren’t — everything isn’t magically fixed because you’re here, Penelope. We had to come and get you, remember?” Josie takes a step forward, jabbing a finger into Penelope’s chest. Penelope slaps her hand away and starts walking down the beach. Josie feels ice cold with the storm brewing around them, the waves crashing against the shore, soaking her feet and legs. 

“You kept me in the dark when we broke up and I get it now, I do—” Josie’s voice shatters and she turns away, turning in on herself. Josie always had a way of making herself so small. Penelope stops walking away from Josie, eyes closing slowly.

“Lizzie was —it was a lot with me and Lizzie. I know that. But it’s not easy calling up your ex who eviscerated your heart into a million tiny pieces and then left the fucking continent because you were too much to handle and tell her, _‘hey, Penelope, the Merge isn’t a threat anymore, but we beat it because I held the school hostage under the influences of dark magic, demanded a fight to the death with my twin sister, and Hope somehow traveled through the hellscape that is my subconscious to bring me back to everyone._ ’ That doesn’t seem fitting for a phone call.” Josie throws up her hands, tears streaming down her face. 

“You’re infuriating!” Penelope spits out, rounding on Josie to look her in the eyes. “You think I wasn’t out there trying every day to figure out the Merge for you?! You have no idea what I went through.” 

“Enlighten me then! Because you left without a word. I didn’t know where you were or what you were doing. You even said it yourself — you’re selfish. You’ve always been selfish.” 

“You knew this about me!” Penelope says, raising her hands as if to plead with Josie. Lighting strikes down half a mile away from them, lighting up the night. “I wanted you to be the selfish one for once, Josie! I wanted you to _want_ me as much as I want you. I wanted to be all you wanted. And I never was. I was always, always going to be the second choice.” 

“You were never a second choice,” Josie speaks in low tones. “You just never gave _me_ a choice, Penelope. You decided for me. I won the Merge. I killed Lizzie. I killed my sister. Without Hope, without you, she’d be dead. How’s that for a second choice?”

“Why didn’t you ever — you never reached out,” Penelope says lamely, all fight from her gone as her temper dries up in the aftermath of Josie’s words. 

“You left, Penelope,” Josie says and she bites her lip, tears shining in her eyes. “There’s probably something in Emma’s files about me and fears of abandonment, but you just walked away like it was all nothing, like I was nothing. You might have helped Hope with the Merge, but you chose to keep your part of it hidden.” 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Penelope laughs wryly, shaking her head. “Everything I do is for you.” 

“Sometimes you just have to tell me these things. I can listen. I’ve been listening to Lizzie for years.” Josie looks away, can’t bring herself to meet Penelope’s gaze, open and honest and promising. “It wasn’t pretty,” she confesses. “I forced the Merge. If you and Hope hadn’t been already researching, we wouldn’t have had enough time to find a solution. I worked with the Necromancer. Hope had to go into my mind to bring me back or I would have just kept burning things down. Are you sure that’s the kind of person you want to stick around for?”

“How can you ask me that after everything?” Penelope sounds tired now, dejected. They’re both so tired after all of this time, carrying their baggage around from Virginia all the way to Canada. “I’d go through hell and back again if it meant that I could call you mine at the end of the day.” 

Josie looks out at the ocean, dark waves crashing, and can’t bear to meet Penelope’s eyes. It would break her, shatter her already fragile patchwork excuse for a heart into nothing but ashes, assured destruction if Penelope doesn’t mean it. She hears the steps as if they are echoing off of the sand, and then Penelope's standing in front of her, a soft hand cupping her cheek. “Look at me, Josie. I — I don’t know where we go from here, but I’m not going anywhere.”

A tear escapes down Josie’s face and Penelope swipes it away with her thumb. “I love you, you idiot,” she says, and Josie kisses her. She tastes like salt and toothpaste and her lips are warm against Penelope as she gasps into the feeling, clutching at Penelope’s hips. 

“I love you, too,” she whispers against Penelope’s lips as they break apart. Around them, the thunder crashes louder and the impending storm finally gives way, rain pouring down around them. If Josie had a moment to think about it, she would think it almost poetic. A sort of cleansing, a baptism, a way to start over. 

They stay there, wrapped into each other, for minutes or hours, and Josie doesn't want to be anywhere else. This feels real, Penelope feels real, in a way that nothing has since she watched Penelope leave after Miss Mystic Falls. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Penelope repeats and kisses Josie again. After Paris, after nights spent wrapped around Penelope, after everything they’ve been through and everything that is yet to come, Josie feels like the broken pieces of her heart are finally, finally mending. 

There’s lightning again, farther away, and there’s Penelope tracing the lines of her face and dotting kisses along her cheek and her temple as the sun rises around them, the sky turning purple and blue. “It worked?” she asks, “it really worked?”

“It worked,” Josie promises, “no more Merge. I should have told you,” she adds because she should have, but she’d never trusted that this could actually be real. 

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“I should have asked you to stay,” Josie says, and Penelope kisses her again because she can. Because they’re in this together, until the bitter end. For the first time in years, Josie feels like she can believe that. 

They haven’t talked about what happens next, or what happens after they find Hope and Lizzie, but enough emotions have been spent for one day. 

“Come on,” Penelope says, and her hands are tracing patterns over Josie’s waist, holding her close. “Let’s get out of here and save your idiot sister and her dumbass girlfriend and hold it over their heads forever.”


	15. time, mystical time

No one warns you about falling in love. About the feeling of being swept away, overwhelmed with so much emotion that it feels like it’s spilling out of your body. Kind of like reverse-siphoning. You give rather than take, pouring yourself out. Josie had always told herself that’s how love would be, so she wills herself to give whatever she could to Penelope in every single kiss — every single moment her lips brushed Penelope’s as they stood on that beach in the eye of the storm, she infused it with hope, love, adoration, passion.

Because she isn’t going anywhere. She can’t. Not anymore. Not when she has been through so much with Penelope by her side. She is irrevocably changed, altered because of this. Because of Penelope. 

She could do this forever, kiss and kiss and kiss Penelope Park, the waves crashing around them. It’s bliss and magical and everything she’d already almost given up on, because of her own foolishness and folly. Not doing that, instead actually fighting for Penelope is the best choice she’s ever made. 

But then reality hits (like it always does; like a slow-moving car crash) and Josie remembers — Hope’s gone, Lizzie went after her, and they’re both definitely in imminent danger. Or dead already. It’s M.G.’s voice that reminds them, calling them back to the house. He’s right. They can’t linger here for too long. 

And somehow, even minutes later, Josie can’t stop smiling. She can’t help but feel weightless under Penelope’s gaze because no matter what anyone ever said, there was something about the way Penelope Park looked at Josie Saltzman. Like she is the world, the sun, the brightest star. Josie wishes she could tell Penelope just how she sees her. Her words would fail because Penelope has always, always been better at them and Josie would throw up her hands with an exasperated sigh, and then Penelope would kiss her senseless. At least, that’s how it used to be. Maybe now, after everything, maybe Josie could find the right words. Or maybe she’d just let Penelope kiss her senseless again. 

Penelope looks up at Josie from across the room, meeting her eyes as they lean over the dining room table, and smiles at her with a terrible wink. Maybe Josie’s not the only one who’s happy. Exhilarated, even, her heart beating so fast in her chest. Penelope’s face is flushed, and Josie couldn’t be sure if it was the wind whipping around them outside or the heat that coursed through both of their veins just minutes ago. Before everything crashed back into place. Before they remembered what they had to do. 

Penelope watches her now like she’s an equation she can’t quite figure out. Josie hadn’t ever asked Penelope what it was about her that had drawn her eyes one day at school. Josie was quiet and shy and complicated and Penelope was neat lines and rigidity and calm. She was arrogance, a banner of her wealth draped across her body like armor. A born leader and a host of followers at her beck and call, trailing after her in the hallways. Josie could never have been any of those things. Josie wore her legacy like chains around her neck, staggering under the weight of secrets and revelations. She struggled with it all, and Penelope had always seemed to somehow walk with her head held high, aloft as if balancing a crown. 

Even now, Josie feels as if she is the storm and Penelope’s the eye — a microscopic spot of silence in an ocean of chaos. Perhaps Penelope had allowed Josie to be her true self just now, since all this had begun. Perhaps Josie had allowed Penelope to finally be hers. She never asked and she wasn’t even sure if either of them could vocalize it if they tried. She could say it in other ways though. And she would. 

Josie draws in a deep breath. For now, she needs to stay focused. 

“ _I_ _gnalusa_ ,” she whispers, the candles spread throughout the living room, lighting it up and dancing off the walls. She holds out her hand towards M.G.’s shoulder with a questioning glance. “Can I?” 

She needs as much power as possible, and she doesn’t want to take anything more from Penelope. They both need to be at their full strength in order to maintain the connection, especially when they have no idea where Lizzie is or what state she might be in. She could be dead, injured, knocked out. But if everything had worked, Lizzie was the best vessel possible — apart from Hope, that is. Josie swears she would have felt Lizzie’s life force dwindle if something had happened, but it's safe to say she had been a bit preoccupied — 

M.G.’s not happy about this plan and he’s said as much, even as he groans and lets Josie siphon from him. M.G.’s magic is a rush - like sprinting through the fog on a cold winter morning. It wakes her up, but it’s not euphoric the way Penelope’s magic is. Penelope’s magic makes her feel like she can do anything. Alaric'S pacing and grumbling under his breath. Pedro seems totally unaffected by it all, his serene smile shining in the dim light. He had whispered to Penelope earlier when they had joined the rest of the group inside the beach house, his hand covering his mouth. He hadn’t stopped looking between Josie and Penelope, a shy grin on his face. That kid was trouble. 

Raf, Kaleb, and Landon are all silent, sitting quietly. The boys had been more subdued than Josie thought possible. But they were all so damn tired. Josie nods at Penelope over the table and she joins Penelope on the threadbare rug, sand coating the fabric like a second skin. 

Penelope squeezes her hands when they’re both finally kneeling on the floor. Josie’s nervous and she knows Penelope is masking her nerves as best as she can. But this is the plan, the one shot they have, and there’s no alternative plan if it fails. 

The sequence of spells they read from the grimoire lying open and next to them on the ground are long and complicated, Latin mixing with Greek and even some Aramaic, and Josie knows that the spells Lizzie did last night were even more complicated, so, she shoots up a silent plea to every deity that might be listening. They needed all the help they could get. 

She feels it — the moment that the spell takes hold. It’s like being doused in cold water, the air whipping around her. Penelope’s hands are still wrapped around hers, warm and comforting, but otherwise, darkness is enveloping her. It feels like she’s floating, in a vast empty space, and she’s clinging to the twin bond, waiting desperately for any sign of Lizzie. 

“Good luck, babe,” Penelope whispers to her quietly. “I’ll be right here when you get back.” 

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but it feels like a hundred eternities, and she’s scared and nervous and concerned, and finally — “Relax sister dearest.”

“You are the last person who should be telling me to relax,” Josie replies without thinking, but then she gasps. “I did it! We did!” Josie opens her eyes, sees Lizzie before her, looking bored and absolutely over whatever situation she had gotten herself in. But she was alive, she was whole. She was in darkness too and Josie tries to look around them, but all she can see is Lizzie before her. And nothing else. She knew the connection was limited and risky — a conversation in Lizzie’s mind could end in disaster if Josie wasn’t tethered tight enough to Penelope. 

“Told you,” Lizzie says, but Josie can easily discern the relief in her voice. This has always been a dangerous plan, and they both knew it, but Josie and Lizzie both knew they had to try. For Hope. For themselves. 

“I told Penelope about the Merge,” she blurts out, and she can basically hear her sister’s eye roll. 

“About time.”

It’s— she really should be focused on saving Lizzie and Hope right now. She inhales sharply. “Where are you? Did it work?”

“Of course it worked, Josie. I’m a fucking amazing witch. Freya Mikaelson would only —” 

“A bit much, Liz,” Josie cuts her off. 

Lizzie chuckles, and god, it’s only been hours, but Josie can’t even begin to describe the relief flowing through her at hearing Lizzie sounds so normal, so fine, so alive. 

“Where are you?” She questions, “what do we know?”

“Well, after our half-ass attempts at a rescue, no thanks to the horny partridge in a pear tree, they grabbed Hope and moved her to a different spot. And then I summoned Inadu and wanted to sacrifice myself, blah, blah blah, but lo and behold, the bitch wasn’t buying it, no shocker there, so, I think — and this is a big if, Jo, because I only caught a little bit of it in the weird fucking French that they speak up here and gods know that Mom didn’t renew my French lessons after the eighth grade trip to Paris when I was caught with — nevermind. I think that we’re near Baie-Sainte-Claire. I think we’re at the cemetery on the island because it smells like death and fish down here. I’m drifting in and out of it a little, I’m letting her be in control for now and I don’t want to tip her off. It fucking hurts having her in my body, Josie. I don’t like it.” 

Josie tried to commit Lizzie’s words to memories, even as her image started to get fainter. Josie wanted to reach out, knowing her hands would go through Lizzie’s, knowing she couldn’t touch her or offer any kind of reassurance. They were connected in this deep dark corner of Lizzie’s mind and yet, she couldn’t reach out, she couldn’t touch her sister or do anything she wanted to do. Lizzie was so close and so far away. 

“Be careful, Jo. She won’t be tricked easily.” 

“How’s Hope, Lizzie?” 

“She’s — I’ve only seen her in passing, when we were walking by earlier. They’re keeping her in the massive stone room, chained up with guards all around her. I can’t — I haven’t been able to get to her. I haven’t been able to talk to her. The look she gave me though, Jo— ” 

“Yeah, well, she probably isn’t too happy that you’re currently being possessed. And she doesn’t know that you planned this. So, two rescues. Easy. We can totally do this,” Josie says, her eyebrows knitting together. She tried to infuse confidence into her words and Josie knew it fell flat. 

“Shit, something’s happening, Jo. Is Satan strong enough to pull you back?” 

“I love you, Lizzie. We’ll be there as soon as we can, I promise.” 

“You better hurry, Jo! I’m not sure we can keep delaying the inevitable with Hope. Inadu doesn’t like to be kept waiting. I love —” 

Josie feels the connection break, feels herself stumble and trip, feels herself getting tugged back to where she needs to be. She lands with a grunt on something very soft and looks down to see Penelope Park grinning underneath her. Josie’s hand rests on Penelope’s chest and she’s unconsciously rubbing her palms over — 

“Never took you for one who wanted an audience, Jojo,” she winks, badly, hands coming to rest on Josie’s waist seconds before Josie scrambles off of her with a huff. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she teases, before the rest of the group descends on her. Josie rushes to the dining room table, eyes scanning the map frantically. 

“Baie-Sainte-something, Baie - Baie - Baie-Sainte-Claire, here! Lizzie said something about a cemetery.” 

M.G. came up beside her, typing the name quickly into his phone while Penelope draped herself on the other side of Josie. Josie could feel the heat coming from her body, could smell Penelope’s perfume. She was always so grounding. Leaning into Josie, Penelope clasped their hands together, intertwining their fingers. 

“Jo, it’s a seventeen-hour drive from here,” M.G. said slowly, looking up from his phone. “We’ll never make it in time.” 

“Orrrrr,” Penelope began, drawing out the r in the word. She stabbed at the map with a painted nail, her finger over the top of an airport not far from the beach house. “How do we feel about stealing a plane?” 

“And kidnapping a pilot? Not happening,” Josie answers back quickly because as far as dumb ideas went — 

“Just because you probably went to Drama Camp as a kid doesn’t mean that all of us did. Some of us spent our summers at Space Camp or Flight Camp —” Penelope shrugs and trails off, her eyes looking anywhere but at Josie who has turned to fully face Penelope now, dropping her hands. 

“You — Penelope Park — can fly planes?” The surprise is clear in her voice but also reverence because while she knew objectively that there wasn’t anything Penelope couldn’t do if she didn’t put her mind to it, controlling an aluminum box as it hurtled through the air going gods know how fast was certainly not one of them. 

“Darling, you have no idea what I'm capable of,” Penelope purrs, and Josie feels her heart skip a beat and her stomach flip over itself. _Focus, Josie._

“But yes, my license is still valid,” Penelope continues, grinning more fully now, “not that it means anything if we’re going to take the plane. I can easily navigate us there if you give me a bit of time, but I’d rather do it today, if it’s all the same, before it gets dark. Night flying isn’t easy under the best of circumstances, especially if we don’t want to be seen on our descent to the island.”

Penelope pauses, straightening up to look at the boys. “Milton, I’m gonna need a better map than this of the area and of the island — Anticosti Island — and coffee. Lots of coffee. Ric, how confident are you that we can get some weapons for everyone in the next few hours?” 

“I’ll call Dorian and see if he has any contacts,” Alaric says quickly and Penelope just blinks at him, slowly, stunned as he turns away from her, his phone already in his hand. Maybe he wasn't as useless as he looked. 

“And what can I do?” Josie asks as the room empties around them. 

“You, my dear, can help me figure out the best route to this place once we get the map from Milton. You said a cemetery, right? We gotta find a good place to land nearby. A field, anywhere flat. I’m good, Josie. But I would feel a lot better if we had all of our ducks in a row before we went in there guns blazing. Or hands, if we’re talking about you.” Penelope smiles, sighing deeply. 

“I love you in charge,” Josie whispers to her, hands coming up to her cheeks, barely able to hide a smirk because she wanted nothing more than to shove Penelope up against a wall and have her way with her, can feel the _need_ coursing through her veins. 

“Josie Saltzman, _behave_. We have a mission to plan. With aerial assets and an incursion into another subterranean location, which makes it loads trickier,” Penelope exhales, even as her hands come to rest on Josie’s waist. Penelope presses her forehead to Josie’s and they stand like that for a moment, breathing each other’s air, the eye of the storm in the middle of swirling chaos. 

Because, while Josie didn’t know what they were going to face when they got to the island, when they finally got to Lizzie and Hope, she knew it wasn’t going to be an easy fight. 

**Author's Note:**

> let us know your thoughts, pretty please?


End file.
